"No, Richard. I should be left a great deal to myself. A doctor's wife always is. I've thought it out carefully. I would think of him."
After a long silence, I made a proposal that I had refused to entertain before.
"Well, there's no reason why he should not come and live with us. There is plenty of room in my house at Harley Street. Would that do?"
It was a relief to me when she said that she would not consent to an arrangement of that kind. I sat down again.
"Alice," I said quietly, "it is necessary that we should decide our future. There are special reasons."
She glanced at me enquiringly. There was a pause in which I tried to collect my thoughts.
"Your father," I continued, "is suffering from a very peculiar disease. It is wrong, perhaps, to call it a disease. You wouldn't call life a disease, would you?"
"I don't understand."
"No, of course not. Well, to put it as simply as possible, it is likely that your father will live a long time now. When he said he felt as if his mind and body had been rejuvenated he was speaking the truth."
"But he will be ninety next year," she said bluntly.