She asked, "What does he eat?"
"I feed them white rats, rats from the cage over there."
"Will you put him in the other cage? I want to feed him."
"But he doesn't need food. He's had a rat already this week. Sometimes they don't eat for three or four months. I had one that didn't eat for over a year."
In her low monotone she asked, "Will you sell me a rat?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I see. You want to watch how rattlesnakes eat. All right. I'll show you. The rat will cost twenty-five cents. It's better than a bullfight if you look at it one way, and it's simply a snake eating his dinner if you look at it another." His tone had become acid. He hated people who made sport of natural processes. He was not a sportsman but a biologist. He could kill a thousand animals for knowledge, but not an insect for pleasure. He'd been over this in his mind before.
She turned her head slowly toward him and the beginning of a smile formed on her thin lips. "I want to feed my snake," she said.