'I have seen too many cases in the course of my parochial experience not to recognise the painful symptoms. I am so sorry for you and for him. It is a bright young life thrown away.'
'Do you think he will not recover?'
'I think it is a very bad case. He is wasted to a shadow, and has a worn, haggard look that I don't like. And then he has those painful hallucinations—that idea of falling down a precipice, for instance, which are oftenest seen in fatal cases.'
Ida told him of the scene in the church yesterday—she confided in him fully—telling him all that Dr. Mallison had said of the case.
'What can I do?' she asked, piteously.
'I don't think you can do more than you are doing. That man who waits upon your husband is a nurse, I suppose?'
'Yes. Dr. Mallison sent him.'
'And care is taken that the patient gets no stimulants supplied to him?'
'Every care—and yet—'
'And yet what?'