John gave a quick sigh. “He will never come to you,” he said.
The physician had drawn a paper toward him and was writing on it. “I can give certain general directions. If they don’t help, he must come.”
John waited while the pen scratched on. “These baths,” said the physician, “are good. They may help.”
John’s eyes grew dubious—a little wide with anxiety.
“These other things,” went on the physician, “are for your discretion. He ’s probably under-nourished. Raw eggs will give him what he needs—tax him least.”
“How many?” asked John.
“All you can get into him.”
The young man’s eyes grew larger—at the way before him....
“He does n’t half breathe, I suppose?”
“I—I don’t know,” said John.