Whom should he consult? Young Jowitt was the only doctor he knew well, and the day after that railway journey he man-aged to remark to him in casual tones, "I say, in your rounds here, do you come across unspeakables of the Oscar Wilde sort?" But Jowitt replied. "No, that's in the asylum work, thank God," which was discouraging, and perhaps it might be better to consult someone whom he should never see again. He thought of specialists, but did not know whether there were any for his disease, nor whether they would keep faith if he confided in them. On all other subjects he could command advice, but on this, which touched him daily, civilization was silent.

She saw him frown, and, fearing she had been impertinent, turned the talk on to Clive. She had expected Clive to be back by now, she said, and it was the more disappointing because to-morrow Clive would have to be really away. The agent, who knew the constituency, was showing him round. Mr Hall must be forgiving, and he must help them in the cricket match.

"You will say 'Who toom' as a joke too often."

闇嶅皵鍏堢敓鈥斺�旀垜鐚滄兂锛岃�佹槸鏈変簺浜嬩紶鍑哄幓浜嗭紝瀵逛綘鍙�涓嶅ぇ鏂逛究鍟娿�傗��

"I'm all right."

鑾�鐟炴柉绗戜簡锛岄�囨劅鍐呯枤鍦版湞浠栬副鍘汇�備粬蹇冧腑鏈夋劎銆傚反閲屽ぇ澶�鐨勪竴涓�灏忎緞瀛愪笂瀛︽湡鍏ヤ簡鏈�鏍★紝鏇炬嫓鎵樿帿鐟炴柉鐓ч【銆傜劧鑰屼粬浠�涔堜篃娌″仛鈥斺�旀病鎶婅繖涓�褰撳洖浜嬨�傜幇鍦ㄤ粬鎰熷埌鑷�宸辨槸涓�澶т汉浜嗭紝鎳婃倲鑷�宸卞綋鍒濇病鏈夋洿澶氱殑鍕囨皵锛屼絾涓烘椂宸叉櫄銆�

Maurice looked at him with some friendliness, and they en-tered the building. As they did so, Alec raised his head and sneezed like a lion.

"How is poor Mr Durham?"