If her hands had known
water (to say nothing of soap) during the past twelve months I am
much mistaken. It was a pity, for I found that my teeth could just
masticate a portion of the flesh which hunger compelled me to
assail.
Of course I suffered much from thirst, and Dr. Sculco startled me
one day by asking if I liked _tea_. Tea? Was it really procurable?
The Doctor assured me that it could be supplied by the chemist;
though, considering how rarely the exotic was demanded, it might
have lost something of its finer flavour whilst stored at the
pharmacy. An order was despatched. Presently the waiter brought me a
very small paper packet, such as might have contained a couple of
Seidlitz powders; on opening it I discovered something black and
triturated, a crumbling substance rather like ground charcoal. I
smelt it, but there was no perceptible odour; I put a little of it
to my tongue, but the effect was merely that of dust. Proceeding to
treat it as if it were veritable tea, I succeeded in imparting a
yellowish tinge to the hot water, and, so thirsty was I, this
beverage tempted me to a long draught.
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