“My darling child, you look dreadfully ill, and it is fretting my heart out. I spoke to Doctor Lynch, and he orders change of air and total cessation from work. You never opposed me in your young life; you are not going to commence now.”
“But—”
“But me no buts, Bertie.”
“This trip would take two months.”
“Three.”
“I should be out of the race in three months.”
“You’ll return fresh and vigorous, and to win.”
“This is sheer folly. I never felt better in my life.”
“Next Wednesday, Bertie.”
“I could not, even if I listened to this absurd proposal, be ready before two weeks.”