"Yes, for the consultation."
"Yes. Well, good-by!"
The doctor went out, lightly carrying the burden of misery and cruel memories, the weight of which he had ceased to feel.
. . . . .
Evidently the consulting physicians had just finished their examination of the patient in another room. The door opened, and two doctors entered.
Their manner seemed to me to be stiff. One of them was a young man, the other an old man.
They looked at each other. I tried to penetrate the silence of their eyes and the night in their heads. The older man stroked his beard, leaned against the mantelpiece, and stared at the ground.
"Hopeless," he said, lowering his voice, for fear of being overheard by the patient.
The other nodded his head—in sign of agreement—of complicity, you might say. Both men fell silent like two guilty children. Their eyes met again.
"How old is he?"