Eating People is Wrong Read Free Page B

said Treece.
    On the fringe of the hour, when the corridor outside echoed with the amplified sound of thunderous feet and barbarous whoopings, Professor Treece dismissed his tutorial. ‘Good afternoon,
Professor, thank you very much,’ said Mr Sykes and Mr Cocoran, bumping into each other as they rose, wondering what sort of an impression they had made, and whether they had, perhaps, worn
too bright a tie or shoes too fancily stitched. ‘Thank you very much, Professor,’ each repeated in turn, with little smiles, as they jammed side by side in the doorway.
    Louis Bates, meanwhile, sat firm in his chair, openly enjoying the performance, waiting for the jerky mood of embarrassment to subside. Then when the door was closed again, when Treece had taken
his place at his desk once more and looked up questioningly across his papers, Louis commenced to speak, explaining in his carefully modulated tones just why he expected special treatment. He said
that he hoped that Treece would not mind his taking him to task on the matter of the word ‘organic’, but he believed that it lay in the true function of the university to promote that
interplay of view, that discussion and dispute, that cumulative narrowing down of possibilities that led to the formation of accurate opinion. The student could be, as it were (he said), the
rubbing post for the thought of his teacher. Treece peered down at his desk and, picking up a pencil, drew great rotundities on a scrap of paper. Bates looked just the way a bassoon sounds –
gruff, heavy footed, pompous. Let this be a lesson to you (thought Treece) not to have children after you’re forty; and with this came the uneasy recollection that he had only a year or so
left. Him, Stuart Treece, forty! – why, he was just not built for it. Bates went on. He explained that he admired the tutorial atmosphere, though the resolute refusal of his colleagues to
enrich discussion was a matter of some woe to him. He used that word –
woe
– right there in Treece’s office, and Treece supposed that it was the first time the word had
been used there, in the ordinary passage of conversation, in forty years; one had this perpetual whiff of the Victorian when one talked to Bates. Bates now said that Treece would appreciate that
he, Bates, was somewhat different from – indeed, he said, somewhat apart from – the other students in the University and suggested that the difference was, in part, one of maturity and
energy of intellect. He went on to announce that, if Treece was prepared to cooperate, he could quite easily get a first. This was, he said, not sheer bravado on his part; on the contrary, he had
come to the decision on a strict and critical assessment of skills and deficiencies. He reiterated his comment about the maturity and poise of his attitudes, adding that, moreover, he knew a bit
about these degree examinations and had come to the conclusion that it was little more than a question of effort. What was necessary, he said, was that Treece and he should work
together
.
‘I must have someone to give my work
direction
,’ he said. ‘I see,’ said Treece.
    Bates’s manner of speaking was quiet and firm and therefore somewhat impressive; Treece was affected. ‘I happen to be a very good worker,’ Bates went on, with what Treece could
only define as a coy smile, speaking quietly in order to efface any suggestion of bravura. ‘And there won’t be any distractions. I’m not bothered with the social side, you see,
and it’s that, I think, that dissipates most people’s time and effort. Much leisure is required to consolidate friendships, so I shall regard them as an indulgence to be infrequently
sated. Actually, as it happens, you know, I don’t exactly fit in here; I’m a lot older than the other students, and I come from a different social class, perhaps.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know . . .’ said Treece.
    ‘Well,’ said Louis brusquely, indicating that he intended to come