“With joy. Yes: our poor boy will live.”
Chapter Thirty Eight.
The Ruptured Vein.
“He’s my father-in-law, Wrigley, but he’s an old beast,” said Jessop, in a low snarling tone, as the Doctor’s steps died away in the distance.
“I daresay he is,” replied Wrigley; “but this is no time for pouring your domestic troubles on my head. What did you mean by telling me that this man, Sturgess, fell down a shaft?”
“That’s what he told me—a brute! I’ve no sympathy with him whatever, but I don’t, want it to be said that we neglected him, in case he dies. We’ve got troubles enough.”
“Rather. It’s about as near utter ruin as a man can get. Stockbroker? You’re lucky if you don’t turn stone-broker.”
“Mind what you’re talking about. You’ll have that fellow Robson hear you.”