sweeter than what you can devour openly. The boy enjoys his stolen apple because at any moment he may have to slip it down the leg of his trousers and pretend that he has merely climbed the tree to enjoy the scenery. You enjoy your book doubly because you feel that it is a forbidden pleasure. Or do you conceal your book from your wife lest she should think you are over-exerting yourself? She must not be made anxious on your account? Ah, that is it.
People who pretend (for it must be pretence) that they enjoy their hobday in the country, explain that the hills or the sea give them such an appetite. I could never myself feel the delight of being able to manage an extra herring for breakfast, but it should be pointed out that neither mountains nor oceans give you such an appetite as a holiday in bed. What makes people eat more anywhere is that they have nothing else to do, and in bed you have lots of time for meals. As for the quality of the food supplied, there is no comparison. In the highlands it is ham and eggs all day till you sicken. At the seaside it is fish till the bones stick in your mouth. But in bed—oh, there you get something worth eating. You don’t take three big meals a day, but twelve little ones, and each time it is something different from the last. There are delicacies for breakfast, for your four luncheons and your five dinners. You explain to your wife that you have lost your appetite, and she believes you, but at the same time she has the sense to hurry on your dinner. At the clatter of dishes (for which you have been lying listening) you raise your poor head, and say faintly:
“Really, Marion, I can’t touch food.”
“But this is nothing,” she says, “only the wing of a partridge.”
You take a side glance at it, and see that there is also the other wing and the body and two legs. Your alarm thus dispelled, you say:
“I really can’t.”
“But, dear, it is so beautifully cooked.”
“Yes, but I have no appetite.”
“But try to take it, John, for my sake.”
Then for her sake you say she can leave it on the chair, and perhaps you will just taste it. As soon as she has gone you devour that partridge, and when she comes back she has the sense to say:
“Why, you have scarcely eaten anything. What could you take for supper?”
You say you can take nothing, but if she likes she can cook a large sole, only you won’t be able to touch it.
