Here, try a cheese sandwich. Now, why do you suppose
that this mustard tastes so much better than the kind one
gets at home?"
Von Gerhard had been smoking a cigarette, the first
that I had ever seen in his fingers. Now he tossed it
into the fireplace that yawned black and empty at one side
of the room. He swept aside the plates and glasses that
stood before him, leaned his arms on the table and
deliberately stared at me.
"I sail for Europe in June, to be gone a year--
probably more," he said.
"Sail!" I echoed, idiotically; and began blindly to
dab clots of mustard on that ridiculous sandwich.
"I go to study and work with Gluck. It is the
opportunity of a lifetime. Gluck is to the world of
medicine what Edison is to the world of electricity. He
is a wizard, a man inspired. You should see him--a
little, bent, grizzled, shabby old man who looks at you,
and sees you not. It is a wonderful opportunity, a--"
The mustard and the sandwich and the table and Von
Gerhard's face were very indistinct and uncertain to my
eyes, but I managed to say: "So glad--congratulate you--
very happy--no doubt fortunate--"
Two strong hands grasped my wrists. "Drop that absurd
mustard spoon and sandwich.
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