“Well, something like that.”
“That’s Bertha,” I said. “She would.”
He studied me for a minute. “I’ve given her a rigid diet to follow.”
“She won’t follow it.”
“It’s up to you to see that she does.”
“I can’t. I’ve got my hands full.”
“She’s let herself get in a deplorable condition so far as weight is concerned.”
“She just doesn’t care,” I said. “She tried to keep thin until she found her husband was two-timing her, then she let him have his friends, and she had her potatoes and desserts. Anyway, that’s what she once told me. After he died, she kept right on eating.”
“Well, she’s down to a reasonable size now, and she must hold that weight. After all, you know, her heart isn’t going to stand up forever under the strain of carrying around an enormous burden of flesh such as she was carrying. There’s not only the extra exertion due to the added weight, but each pound of fat requires yards of capillaries to keep it supplied with blood.”
“Have you talked with Mrs. Cool about that?”