Page 588 - the-idiot

he waved his hands towards the room and its contents as
though in protest at his present condition. ‘I see that you—‘
‘I’m in consumption,’ I said laconically, rising from my
seat.
He jumped up, too.
‘Perhaps you are exaggerating—if you were to take prop-
er measures perhaps—‘
‘He was terribly confused and did not seem able to col-
lect his scattered senses; the pocket-book was still in his left
hand.
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ I said. ‘Dr. B— saw me last week’
(I lugged him in again), ‘and my hash is quite settled; par-
don me-’ I took hold of the door-handle again. I was on the
point of opening the door and leaving my grateful but con-
fused medical friend to himself and his shame, when my
damnable cough got hold of me again.
‘My doctor insisted on my sitting down again to get my
breath. He now said something to his wife who, without
leaving her place, addressed a few words of gratitude and
courtesy to me. She seemed very shy over it, and her sickly
face flushed up with confusion. I remained, but with the air
of a man who knows he is intruding and is anxious to get
away. The doctor’s remorse at last seemed to need a vent, I
could see.
‘If I—‘ he began, breaking off abruptly every other mo-
ment, and starting another sentence. ‘I-I am so very grateful
to you, and I am so much to blame in your eyes, I feel sure,
I—you see—‘ (he pointed to the room again) ‘at this mo-
ment I am in such a position-’