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Updated: May 14, 2025
The woman stared at me and scuttled away, and I says, "How's business? How's the dyspeptic soul?" "Business good," he says. "Dyspeptic's took a pill. Sit down, Tommy. Glad to see you." Those were his remarks, and it didn't look as if the East had swallowed him, except that he was remarkable calm, and his head was shaved, and his clothes didn't seem proper on a white man.
With which cheerful remark Rosy closed that part of the conversation and returned to the delights of her new friend's garden. But from that day, among other changes which began about this time, the child's cup and plate were well filled, and the dread of adding to her own sufferings seemed to curb the dyspeptic's voracious appetite.
This is not the natural or constitutional pessimism which proceeds from an unhealthy body the dyspeptic's lack of appetite; it is rather the desperation of the netted lion that ultimately stops all movement, because the more it moves the more involved it becomes. Par. 20. "All that increases power is good, all that springs from weakness is bad.
Such a dinner! With few appliances it is really wonderful how a mess-wagon cook feeds the crowd so well. Everything was good, so cleanly served and served so quickly. True, any kind of a mess tastes well to the hungry man, but I think that even a dyspeptic's appetite would become keen when he approached the cattleman's chuck wagon.
At luncheon, as at every other meal despite the new husband's expressed desire to have his wife to himself his valet was present as butler, watching over the dyspeptic's diet, and seeing that the wine was right. Neither master nor man trusted anybody else to do this.
I would eat you, but I can't afford it. Me earnings, being honest, come slow, and I've no money to be squanderin' on the pailful of Dyspeptic's Delight it would be to taking to work you out of my innards!" Again an awful wrenching seized McLean.
In the dining-room the glorious company assembles, so that he who eats therein, attends a feast on Olympus, even though the dyspeptic's fast be his lot. If the eyes gaze on Coypel's gracious ladies, under fruit and roses, with adolescent gods adoring, what matters if the palate is chastised?
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