XVIII.
The house surgeon stretched his long legs lazily in a corner of the office and looked at the hospital superintendent through the purplish haze from his cigar. “I wonder, Goodno,” he said, “that you have time to get interested in any one case among so many. I’d like to see the one you speak of pull through; it’s a rather unusual case, and a trephine always absorbs me.”
Dr. Goodno lighted a companion cigar. “My interest in him isn’t wholly professional,” he answered slowly. “It’s personal. In the first place, he isn’t an Italian stevedore or a Pole peddler from Baxter street. He is a man of a great deal of promise. He has published a book or two, I believe. And in the second place, my wife is very much concerned.”
“Always seems to be the trouble, doesn’t it? Enter a romance!” Dr. Irwin waved his hand widely.
“Yes, it’s a romance. To tell the truth, Irwin, Mrs. Goodno knows of the young woman, and I can’t tell you how anxious she is about him. There’s nothing sadder to me than a case like that.”
“Ah!” the other said, “that’s because you’re a married man. The rest of us haven’t time to grow sympathetic. I should say that the particular young woman would be a great deal better off, judging from present indications, if he did die.”
“Why?”
“Because, if he should recover from this septic condition, he’s more than likely to be a stick for the rest of his life. It’s even chances he never puts foot to the ground again. Such men are better dead, and if you gave them their choice, most of them would prefer it.”
“I didn’t know it was as bad as that. Dr. Faulkner’s earlier prognosis was more favorable.”
“Yes, but I don’t like his temperature of the last two days. He’s got septic symptoms, and you know how quickly such a course ends. Well, we’ll soon know, though that’s more consolation to us than it might be to him, I suppose.” He drummed with his fingers on the arm of the chair. “As for the girl,” he continued. “Love? Pshaw! She’ll get over it. What sensible woman, when she’s got beyond the mooning age and the foreign missionary age, wants a cripple for a husband? If this patient should live in that way, this girl you speak of would probably get the silly notion that she wanted to marry him—trust a woman, especially a young woman, for that! If she’s beautiful or wealthy, or particularly talented, it’s all the more likely she would insist on tying herself up to him and nurse him and feed him gruel till her hair was gray. And what would she get out of it?”