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his boyish air: you felt that he should be larking in the street
with the other lads instead of waiting anxiously for the birth
of a child. The hours passed, and it was not till nearly two
that the baby was born. Everything seemed to be going sat-
isfactorily; the husband was called in, and it touched Philip
to see the awkward, shy way in which he kissed his wife;
Philip packed up his things. Before going he felt once more
his patient’s pulse.
‘Hulloa!’ he said.
He looked at her quickly: something had happened. In
cases of emergency the S. O. C.—senior obstetric clerk—
had to be sent for; he was a qualified man, and the ‘district’
was in his charge. Philip scribbled a note, and giving it to
the husband, told him to run with it to the hospital; he
bade him hurry, for his wife was in a dangerous state. The
man set off. Philip waited anxiously; he knew the woman
was bleeding to death; he was afraid she would die before
his chief arrived; he took what steps he could. He hoped
fervently that the S. O. C. would not have been called else-
where. The minutes were interminable. He came at last, and,
while he examined the patient, in a low voice asked Philip
questions. Philip saw by his face that he thought the case
very grave. His name was Chandler. He was a tall man of
few words, with a long nose and a thin face much lined for
his age. He shook his head.
‘It was hopeless from the beginning. Where’s the hus-
band?’
‘I told him to wait on the stairs,’ said Philip.
‘You’d better bring him in.’