“Of course I suppose you are aware, Major Staines, of what you have done with your very excellent chances?”
Winn shook his head doubtfully. He hadn’t, as a matter of fact, thought much lately about these particular chances.
“Ah,” said Dr. Gurnet, “then I regret to inform you that you have simply walked through them — or, in your case, I should be inclined to imagine, tobogganed — and you have come out the other side. You haven’t got any chances now.”
Winn did not say anything for a moment or two; then he observed:
“I’m afraid I’ve rather wasted your time.”
“Pray don’t mention it,” said Dr. Gurnet. “It is so small a thing compared with what you have done with your own.”
Winn laughed.
“You rather have me there,” he admitted; “I suppose I have been rather an ass.”
“My dear fellow,” said Dr. Gurnet, more kindly, “I’m really annoyed about this, extremely annoyed. I had booked you to get well. I expected it. What have you been doing with yourself? You’ve broken down that right lung badly; the infection has spread to the left. It was not the natural progress of the disease, which was in process of being checked; it is owing to a very great and undue physical strain, and absolutely no attempt to take precautions after it. Also you have, I should say, complicated this by a great nervous shock.”
“Nonsense!” said Winn, briefly. “I don’t go in for nerves.”