"No, thank you. I just wanted to ask you about a transfer."
"A transfer!" This was amazing. "Aren't you happy at Park Hill?"
"I've been very happy."
Maynard went swiftly through a card file on his desk. "You have—let's see—five more months of internship. Then—"
"Then I'd planned to enter private practice. But something personal has come up and I think a change is for the best."
"I'm certainly sorry to hear that."
"One of the men I graduated with went to a hospital in a small Minnesota town. We've corresponded and he's given me a pretty clear picture—a nice town, a need for doctors and physicians—"
"But we need them here in the East, too."
"I realize that, and I'm making the move with some regret. But, frankly, New York City no longer appeals to me. I think perhaps a small hospital is more suited to my temperament."
"I'm certainly sorry to hear this, Corson. But I won't try to dissuade you. Normally, I might bring a little more personal pressure to bear, but I sense that your mind is made up. We're sorry to see you go, but the best of luck to you."