«Why, the day before.»
«The day before. That was Tuesday, wasn't it?»
«I've lost count — yes, the day before Wednesday — yes, Tuesday.»
«Yes. Were they a man's arms or a woman's arms?»
«Oh, a man's arms.»
«Yes; last Tuesday, a week ago to-day, you were dissecting a man's arms in the dissecting-room. Sixpence, please.»
«By Jove!»
«Wait a moment. You know a lot more about it than that. You've no idea how much you know. You know what kind of man he was.»
«Oh, I never saw him complete, you know. I got there a bit late that day, I remember. I'd asked for an arm specially, because I was rather weak in arms, and Watts — that's the attendant — had promised to save me one.»
«Yes. You have arrived late and found your arm waiting for you. You are dissecting it — taking your scissors and slitting up the skin and pinning it back. Was it very young, fair skin?»