CRAVEN (warmly). I made a virtue of necessity, Jo. No one can blame
me.

JULIA (soothing him). Well, never mind, Daddy. Come back to the dining
room and have a good beefsteak.

CRAVEN (shuddering). Ugh! (Plaintively) No: I've lost my old manly
taste for it. My very nature's been corrupted by living on pap. (To
Paramore.) That's what comes of all this vivisection. You go
experimenting on horses; and of course the result is that you try to
get me into condition by feeding me on beans.

PARAMORE (curtly, without changing his position). Well, if they've
done you good, so much the better for you.

CRAVEN (querulously). That's all very well; but it's very vexing. You
don't half see how serious it is to make a man believe that he has
only another year to live: you really don't, Paramore: I can't help
saying it. I've made my will, which was altogether unnecessary; and
I've been reconciled to a lot of people I'd quarrelled with--people I
can't stand under ordinary circumstances. Then I've let the girls get
round me at home to an extent I should never have done if I'd had my
life before me. I've done a lot of serious thinking and reading and
extra church going. And now it turns out simple waste of time. On my
soul, it's too disgusting: I'd far rather die like a man when I said I
would.

PARAMORE (as before). Perhaps you may. Your heart's shaky, if that's
any satisfaction to you.