“You know all about me,” she said; “I have suffered a good deal of mental pain in my life, and I think that that has taught me to despise physical discomfort. Anyhow, I do. I don’t care how tired I get for just this week, and I defy all the little insects in the world to make me enjoy myself less. So that is settled. And now I have one or two more questions, and then, if you please, we will call my sister in, and tell her.”
She leaned back again, and again covered her eyes with her hands. She was getting into more intimate lands now, and was silent a moment.
“Will this age me much?” she asked, “I mean, if I get well, shall I be an old woman? I am, as you know, much older than my husband, and if this will further increase the difference in our ages it might be better——”
Sir Thomas cut this short with some decision.
“It will do nothing of the kind,” he said. “If you do as you are told, the very cure itself, which heals your disease, will rest you in other ways. When you are well again, you will be better in general health and younger than you are now. At least, I have often seen that happen. Only you must fight the little insects to the death. And you have a good chance of doing so.”
Again the hands came away from her eyes, and the shadow of the fear that had been there before was past away.
“Thank you, my dear friend,” she said. “Now, is Davos a dreadful place? Can a man be there much without being bored to death? And what is the shortest time in which you think I could get well?”
“I have known cures of cases far worse than yours being complete in a year, as far as the actual presence of disease goes. But that means a year of complete invalid life, passed at Davos, or perhaps at some higher place just for the summer months, without ever coming down into lower air.”
“You mean I mustn’t come to England for a year?” asked Edith.
“Not if you want to give yourself the best chance. Davos is delightful in the winter for any man who cares about outdoor sports, but I should say very dull when the ice goes.”