As soon as we sat down he began talking.

From time to time he would reach out for another sandwich or doughnut or pickle (without knowing in the least which he was getting), and when that was gone some reflex impulse caused him to reach out for some more.

When the last crumb of our lunch had disappeared Bill Hahn still reached out.

His hand groped absently about, and coming in contact with no more doughnuts or pickles he withdrew it--and did not know, I think, that the meal was finished.

(Confidentially, I have speculated on what might have happened if the supply had been unlimited!) But that was Bill Hahn.