But you
must face it like a man. And after all, now really, doesn't this shew
that there's a lot of rot about modern science? Between ourselves, you
know, it's horribly cruel: you must admit that it's a deuced nasty
thing to go ripping up and crucifying camels and monkeys. It must
blunt all the finer feelings sooner or later.
PARAMORE (turning on him). How many camels and horses and men were
ripped up in that Soudan campaign where you won your Victoria Cross,
Colonel Craven?
CRAVEN (firing up). That was fair fighting--a very different thing,
Paramore.
PARAMORE. Yes, Martinis and machine guns against naked spearmen.
CRAVEN (hotly). I took my chance with the rest, Dr. Paramore. I risked
my own life: don't forget that.
PARAMORE (with equal spirit). And I have risked mine, as all doctors
do, oftener than any soldier.
CRAVEN. That's true. I didn't think of that. I beg your pardon,
Paramore: I'll never say another word against your profession. But I
hope you'll let me stick to the good old-fashioned shaking up
treatment for my liver--a clinking run across country with the hounds.
PARAMORE (with bitter irony).
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