One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell to the ground.
A visit to a specialist—eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and have steak and a glass of port for breakfast.
Riding exercise and port!
But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation from his wife which had sprung up in his heart—he did not know whence it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he longed for her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain bitterness was mingled with his love.
“You are growing thin,” said a friend.
“Yes, I believe I’ve grown thinner,” said the poor husband.
“You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!”
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!”
“I really don’t know what you’re driving at.”.