incision with my penknife will do that—but I am not going to kill her."
"No; I'll do that part of the job. My fist is still strong enough to fell some men and most women; one blow on her ear and she will be as dead as a rabbit."
As he spoke, the gaunt beast began to roll his shirt sleeves up, while the doctor looked away towards the triangular fins of the shark.
He felt Dennis move from his side and crawl over the prostrate baroness towards her head, for she now lay feet towards them on her back. She might have been already dead for all the motions she made as Dennis crawled weakly and stiffly over her. Then a pause came in the rocking of the boat, and next moment a sickening thud with the sound of crushing bones told him that the deed was done, and that their awful repast was ready.
"Come, doctor, do your part now," shouted Dennis in a cracked voice, and at the word the doctor rose up, and pulling out his penknife, opened the smaller blade and advanced to his task.
Man, in his civilized state, feels a much more sinful animal than does the primeval man, and remorse or conscience is a cultivated production entirely. The original cannibal, who has been born to the habit, has no after effects, unless it may be repletion from an over indulgence of the savoury food, which might produce a nightmare of horror, but that is all the horror that he suffers from. The rat, rabbit or cat may devour their own young at times, yet they appear to have no remorse for the unnatural offence, nor are they avoided or repudiated by their own kind. Life goes on the same with them as before. No madness seizes upon their brains; indeed, if anything, they appear to be supremely
