Last
summer, in Switzerland, he was quite well; but
the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was
awful. He wouldn't let me come near him for
days together. He hates to have me about when
he's ill."
She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her
eyes again, went on:
"He always used to send me off to a ball, or
concert, or something, on one pretext or another,
when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock
himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit
outside the door--he would have been furious if
he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it
whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I
think."
There was a curious, sullen defiance in her
manner.
"Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more,"
said Martini kindly. "Dr. Riccardo is taking the
case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able to
make a permanent improvement. And, in any
case, the treatment gives relief at the moment.
But you had better send to us at once, another
time. He would have suffered very much less if
we had known of it earlier.
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