December 12.
It is so agreeable to be able to write again that I write now for the sheer physical pleasure of being able to use a pen and form letters.
An Adventure in Search of Health
About the end of September, I began to feel so ill that Nurse went for the Doctor who assured me that E—— was all right—I need not worry—"You go away at once and get some fresh air," and so forth. "I feel quite ill," I said, struggling to break the news.
"Sort of nervous?" he enquired good-naturedly, "run down? I should get right away at once."
I began tentatively. "Well, I have a rather long medical history and perhaps ... you ... might care to read the certificate of my London Doctor?"
I went to my escritoire and returned with M——'s letter addressed to "The M.O. examining Mr. B."
Hodge pulled out the missive, studied the brief note carefully and long, at the same time drawing in his breath—deeply, and gnawing the back of his hand.
"I know all about it," I said to relieve him.
"Is it quite certain? about this disease?" he said presently. "You are very young for it."