'Really, you know,' he said, rubbing his hands together and laughing nervously, 'it has more than a theoretical interest.
'For example,' he confided, bringing his face close to the Professor's and dropping to an undertone, 'it would perhaps, if suitably handled, sell. . . .
'Precisely,' he said, walking away,—'as a Food. Or at least a food ingredient.
'Assuming of course that it is palatable. A thing we cannot know till we have prepared it.'
He turned upon the hearthrug, and studied the carefully designed slits upon his cloth shoes.
'Name?' he said, looking up in response to an inquiry. 'For my part I incline to the good old classical allusion. It—it makes Science res—. Gives it a touch of old-fashioned dignity. I have been thinking . . . I don't know if you will think it absurd of me. . . . A little fancy is surely occasionally permissible. . . . Herakleophorbia. Eh? The nutrition of a possible Hercules? You know it might . . .
'Of course if you think not———'
Redwood reflected with his eyes on the fire and made no objection.
'You think it would do?'
Redwood moved his head gravely.
'It might be Titanophorbia, you know. Food of Titans. . . . You prefer the former?
'You're quite sure you don't think it a little too———'
'No.'
'Ah! I'm glad.'
