"Imbossible," he said; "that dooth is
perfectly sound. The other two are rotten. But they do not ache?"
Mr. Lavender shook his head and repeated:
"At one."
"You are my first client this week, sir," said the young German calmly,
"but I cannot that dooth dake out."
At those words Mr. Lavender experienced a sensation as if his soul were
creeping back up his legs; he spoke as it reached his stomach.
"Noc?" he said.
"No," replied the young German. It is nod the dooth which causes you the
bain.
Mr. Lavender, suddenly conscious that he had no pain, took his finger
out.
"Sir," he said, "I perceive that you are an honourable man. There is
something sublime in your abnegation if, indeed, you have had no other
client this week.
"No fear," said the young German. "Haf I, Cicely?"
Mr. Lavender became conscious for the first time of a young woman
leaning up against the wall, with a pair of tweezers in her hand.
"Take it out, Otto," she said in a low voice, "if he wants it."
"No no," said Mr. Lavender sharply, resuming his teeth; "I would not for
the world burden your conscience."
"My clients are all batriots," said the young dentist, "and my bractice
is Kaput. We are in a bad way, sir," he added, with a smile, "but we try
to do the correct ting.
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