But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. Simply because they are hardened by—by bestiality, and poisoned by the juices of meat slain in anger and fermented drinks—fancy! drinks that have been swarmed in by thousands and thousands of horrible little bacteria!” “It’s yeast,” said Ann Veronica—“a vegetable.
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