"I'd liked to have done for you first, Hump.

And I thought I had that much left in me." "But why ?" I asked; partly in horror, partly out of curiosity.
Again his stern mouth framed the twisted smile, as he said: "Oh, just to be alive, to be living and doing, to be the biggest bit of the ferment to the end, to eat you.

But to die this way." He shrugged his shoulders, or attempted to shrug them, rather, for the left shoulder alone moved.

Like the smile, the shrug was twisted.
"But how can you account for it ?" I asked.

"Where is the seat of your trouble ?" "The brain," he said at once.