To see a hungry man devour cold scones, stale oatcake, and
brown bread laden with marmalade was a revelation to this inexperienced
student who had never known what it was to be without at least three
meals a day. He watched in spite of himself, wondering why the fellow
did not choke in the process.
But Field seemed to be as sleepy as he was hungry. More than once his
head dropped and he ceased to masticate the food in his mouth. Marriott
had positively to shake him before he would go on with his meal. A
stronger emotion will overcome a weaker, but this struggle between the
sting of real hunger and the magical opiate of overpowering sleep was a
curious sight to the student, who watched it with mingled astonishment
and alarm. He had heard of the pleasure it was to feed hungry men, and
watch them eat, but he had never actually witnessed it, and he had no
idea it was like this. Field ate like an animal--gobbled, stuffed,
gorged. Marriott forgot his reading, and began to feel something very
much like a lump in his throat.
"Afraid there's been awfully little to offer you, old man," he managed
to blurt out when at length the last scone had disappeared, and the
rapid, one-sided meal was at an end.
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