experiment on every mortal animal that's got a liver at all. (He folds
his arms and breathes hard at them.)

CRAVEN (his sense of injury growing upon him). Am I to understand,
Paramore, that you took it on yourself to pass sentence of death--yes,
of Death--on me, on the strength of three dogs and an infernal monkey?

PARAMORE (utterly contemptuous of Craven's narrow personal view of the
matter). Yes. That was all I could get a license for.

CRAVEN. Now upon my soul, Paramore, I'm vexed at this. I don't wish to
be unfriendly; but I'm extremely vexed, really. Why, confound it, do
you realize what you've done? You've cut off my meat and drink for a
year--made me an object of public scorn--a miserable vegetarian and a
teetotaller.

PARAMORE (rising). Well, you can make up for lost time now. (Bitterly,
shewing Craven the Journal) There! you can read for yourself. The
camel was fed on beef dissolved in alcohol; and he gained weight under
it. Eat and drink as much as you please. (Still unable to stand
without support, he makes his way past Cuthbertson to the revolving
bookcase and stands there with his back to them, leaning on it with
his head on his hand.)

CRAVEN (grumbling). Oh yes, it's very easy for you to talk, Paramore.
But what am I to say to the Humanitarian societies and the Vegetarian
societies that have made me a Vice President?

CUTHBERTSON (chuckling). Aha! You made a virtue of it, did you, Dan?