"Porter has been living rather hard. He needs a rest—fatty degeneration may set in."
"Brought on by the strike?"
Lindsay smiled broadly this time.
"Coincident with the strike, let us say."
"I don't believe I can leave Chicago just now," the young doctor replied finally.
Lindsay stared at him as if he were demented.
"I've a case or two I am interested in," Sommers explained nonchalantly. "Nothing much, but I don't care to leave. Besides, I don't think Porter would be an agreeable companion."
"Very well," Lindsay replied indifferently. "French will go—a jolly, companionable, chatty fellow."
The young doctor felt that Lindsay was enumerating pointedly the qualities he lacked.
"Porter's connection will be worth thousands to the man he takes to. He's in a dozen different corporations where they pay good salaries to physicians. Of course, if you've started a practice already—"