Загублений світ
He is a Perfectly Impossible Person
Heleanedforwardwithgreatearnestness.
"Isupposeyouareaware,"saidhe,checkingoffpointsuponhisfingers,"thatthecranialindexisaconstantfactor?"
"Naturally,"saidI.
"Andthattelegonyisstillsubjudice?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Andthatthegermplasmisdifferentfromtheparthenogeneticegg?"
"Why,surely!"Icried,andgloriedinmyownaudacity.
"Butwhatdoesthatprove?"heasked,inagentle,persuasivevoice.
"Ah,whatindeed?"Imurmured."Whatdoesitprove?"
"ShallItellyou?"hecooed.
"Praydo."
"Itproves,"heroared,withasuddenblastoffury,"thatyouarethedamnedestimposterinLondon—avile,crawlingjournalist,whohasnomoresciencethanhehasdecencyinhiscomposition!"
Hehadsprungtohisfeetwithamadrageinhiseyes.EvenatthatmomentoftensionIfoundtimeforamazementatthediscoverythathewasquiteashortman,hisheadnothigherthanmyshoulder—astuntedHerculeswhosetremendousvitalityhadallruntodepth,breadth,andbrain.
