"Levinsky! How are you? How are you?" he shouted, flinging himself at me effusively
"I hear you're practising medicine," I returned. And, looking him over gaily, I added, "A doctor every inch of you."
He blushed
"And you're a rich man, I hear."
"Vanderbilt is richer, I can assure you. I should change places with you any time." In my heart I remarked, "Yes, I am worth a hundred thousand dollars, while he is probably struggling to make a living, but I can beat him at his own intellectual game, too, even if he has studied anatomy and physiology."
"Well, you will be a Vanderbilt some day. You're only beginning to make money. People say you are a great success. I was so glad to hear of it."
"And I am glad to hear that you were glad," I jested, gratefully.
"And how are things with you?"
"All right," he answered, firmly. "I can't complain. For the time I've been practising I am doing very well. Very well, indeed."
He told me of a case in which one of the oldest and most successful physicians on the East Side had made a false diagnosis, and where he, Mindels, had made the correct one and saved the patient's life
"The family wouldn't hear of another doctor now. They would give their lives for me," he said, with a simper