‘Oh, I don’t think I should go so far as that.’
‘But that’s just what you want—a regular change, something bracing. You don’t look at all well, that’s the fact. A winter in London tries any man—it does me, I know. I’ve been seedy myself these last few weeks. Edith wants me to take her over to Paris at the end of this month, and I think it isn’t a bad idea; but I’m so confoundedly busy. In the autumn we shall go to Norway, I think; it seems to be the right thing to do nowadays. Why shouldn’t you have a run over to Norway? They say it can be done very cheaply; the steamers take you for next to nothing.’
He talked on with the joyous satisfaction of a man whose income is assured, and whose future teems with a succession of lively holidays. Reardon could make no answer to such suggestions; he sat with a fixed smile on his face.
‘Have you heard,’ said Carter, presently, ‘that we’re opening a branch of the hospital in the City Road?’
‘No; I hadn’t heard of it.’
‘It’ll only be for out-patients. Open three mornings and three evenings alternately.’
‘Who’ll represent you there?’
‘I shall look in now and then, of course; there’ll be a clerk, like at the old place.’
He talked of the matter in detail—of the doctors who would attend, and of certain new arrangements to be tried.
‘Have you engaged the clerk?’ Reardon asked.