'My heart positively bleeds for you. What is the matter with your
hand, that you talk of being a life-long prisoner to your room? Pray
send for Paget or Erichsen, and have yourself put right at once. No
doubt that local simpleton is making a mess of your case. Perhaps
while he is dabbing with lint and lotions the real remedy is the
knife. I am sure amputation would be less melancholy than the
despondent state of feeling which you are now suffering. If any limb
of mine went wrong, I should say to the surgeon, "Cut it off, and
patch up the stump in your best style; I give you a fortnight, and
at the end of that time I expect to be going to parties again." Life