Sir Thomas got up and held out his hand to her.
“Ah, my dear lady,” he said, “you are a brave woman. Meet your—your illness with the same bravery day by day. Those are the patients, people like you, who get well, and get well quickly.”
“What are my chances?” she asked briskly.
“They are excellent. Thanks to that little hæmorrhage you had last week, and thanks to your common sense in consulting me about it without losing time, we have detected the disease in an early stage. All depends now—humanly speaking—on yourself, on your obedience to what we tell you to do, and the scrupulous rigour with which you carry out your treatment.”
That allusion to treatment, to obedience to orders, brought Edith closer, more immediately in contact, as it were, with the news.
“You have no doubt whatever that I have consumption?” she asked quickly.
“I am afraid none. Of course the hæmorrhage, as I told you before, might have come from the throat, but the examination I have made since I saw you last proves the presence of what you call the little insects.”
“And what am I to do?” she asked.
“Go out to Davos as soon as ever you can. I would have you leave by this afternoon’s train, if it was possible. And there you will live out of doors day and night as far as possible. Until you check the disease it gains on you. As I told you, you have an excellent chance, and you mustn’t imperil it by delay.”
Edith considered this for a moment.