“It isn’t that. I’m ill.”
“It’s the heat. We are all ill. Everyone. In such weather as this. It’s no excuse for not making an effort, situated as we are.”
“I mean I am really ill. I am in pain.”
She looked at him as one might look at an unreasonable child. He was constrained to more definite statement.
“I suppose I must tell you sooner or later. I’ve had to see a doctor.”
“Without consulting me!”
“I thought if it turned out to be fancy I needn’t bother you.”
“But how did you find a doctor?”
“There’s a fellow at the corner. Oh! it’s no good making a long story of it. I have cancer.... Nothing will do but an operation.” Self-pity wrung him. He controlled a violent desire to cry. “I am too ill to eat. I ought to be lying down.”
She flopped back in her chair and stared at him as one stares at some hideous monstrosity. “Oh!” she said. “To have cancer now! In these lodgings!”