The surgeon spoke frankly, making plain in his precise phraseology what was and what might be. "You will take another opinion," he concluded, "but it is not a matter of opinion, but of fact. These," he pointed to some reagents, "never lie. Doctors do—sometimes."
"I thank you for not lying to me," said Mark gravely.
Barger fumbled with his test tubes, and then burst out vehemently:
"Your only chance lies in the most careful diet, a life in the open air; and even then the issue is doubtful."
"And—marriage?"
"Out of the question."
"But if I got better? Should I be justified in asking a woman to wait?"
His voice was dry and husky. Barger shook his head. The trouble might be staved off for a time, hut there was always the probability of return.
"You have neglected your body," he said irritably. "You have defrauded it of all things essential, and it has taken its revenge. Oh, you parsons who think of others, why can't you see that you would serve the world better if you thought more of yourselves?"
Mark could read the sympathy and pity latent beneath frowns and irritability. He held out his hand. Barger continued: