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"Your lordship has, I hope, found them good to Salisbury?" "Ah! I believe so. Oh! to be sure, excellent to Salisbury. But how are they to London? We have had wet weather lately, I think!" "No, my lord. Here the weather has been dry as a bone." "Or a cutlet!" muttered Mauleverer; and the host continued,
MRS. H. Keeps her arm at full stretch for three seconds. PARTNER ON LEFT. Allow me. CAPT. G. For Goodness' sake go on with your dinner! You must eat something. Try one of those cutlet arrangements. What an ass a man can make of himself! Tell me whether I have done anything. If only I'd written to her and stood the racket at long range! Simpkin do. MRS. H. Tell me now.
"A cutlet and coffee, and tell him to bring some more wine, I am hungry," answered Pyotr Stepanovitch, calmly scrutinising his host's attire. Mr. Karmazinov was wearing a sort of indoor wadded jacket with pearl buttons, but it was too short, which was far from becoming to his rather comfortable stomach and the solid curves of his hips. But tastes differ.
Well, well, suppose we try about half the quantity, very dry, and make an effort to eat a cutlet or a little bit of plain roast mutton, Dr. Rylance would murmur tenderly to a stout middle-aged lady who had confessed that her appetite was inferior to her powers of absorption. Men who were drinking themselves to death in a gentlemanly manner always went to Dr. Rylance.
When the servant announced luncheon he had covered twenty sheets of paper and had only arrived at the American bar of the Savoy. He went to luncheon, swallowed a whiting and half a cutlet, and returned. He sat down, read what he had written, and tore it across. That would never do. It was like the vast prelude to a begging letter. She would never read it through.
Everybody had his glass of beer before him, or his cup of coffee, or his bottle of wine, or his hot cutlet and potatoes; young ladies chatted, or fanned themselves, or wrought at their crocheting or embroidering; the students fed sugar to their dogs, or discussed duels, or illustrated new fencing tricks with their little canes; and everywhere was comfort and enjoyment, and everywhere peace and good-will to men.
I knew a couple of elderly spinsters once who had a sort of German sausage on legs which they called a dog between them. They used to wash its face with warm water every morning. It had a mutton cutlet regularly for breakfast; and on Sundays, when one of the ladies went to church, the other always stopped at home to keep the dog company.
"Yes," Joe went on, "but I'm not going to go on with it." Marty spoke sharply: "Why not?" "I'll tell you later, Marty." "Not lost your nerve? The fire?" Joe laughed softly. "Other reasons Marty." "Retire?" Marty's appetite was spoiled. He pushed the veal cutlet from him. He was greatly agitated. "Retire you? I can see you doing nothing, blamed if I can't.
She turned pale, and said to me, "What are you going to do?" "My duty." She embraced me, and only said two words: "Do it." My breakfast was ready. I ate a cutlet in two mouthfuls. As I finished, my daughter came in. She was startled by the manner in which I kissed her, and asked me, "What is the matter?" "Your mother will explain to you." And I left them.
I was always spoken to harshly when he condescended to take any notice of me at all, and was very frequently beaten. Our meals together had become perfectly intolerable. He would sit and trifle with his cutlet, and cover it with pepper, for his appetite was completely gone, and there was no conversation except perhaps an occasional expression of displeasure.
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