The Wilmington morning star., 1947-06-28

S u wv, tlcIl he u
have to think OF something else.
There was nothing he could do for
her. Poor physique and nothing to
be done about it, Nothing to get
your teeth into. Not like old Moth
er Crabtree.
A boring morning. Profitable
financially - but nothing else.
LORD, he was tired Tired Of sick.
~ women and their ailments. Pal
nation, Notwithstanding to il
but that. Sometimes he wondered
L it was worth it but ALWAYS
then he remembered St. Christie.
piers, and the long row of beds
IN the Margaret Russell Ward,
ard Mrs. Crabtre grinning up at
him with her toothless smile.
He and she understood each
other! She was a fighter, not like
that limp slug of a woman in the
next bed. She was On his side,
she wanted to live - though God
knew why, considering the slum
she lived in, with a husband who
drank and a brood of unruly child
rem, and She herself oblige tc
work day in and day out, scrib-
bing endless floors of endless Of
fees. Hard, un7emitting drudgery
and Few pleasures! But she want.
ed to live-she enjoyed it-just as
ne, John Christow, enjoyed life!
It wasn't the circumstances of life
they enjoyed, it was life itself
the zest of existence. Curious-a
thing II couldn't explain. He
thought to himself that he must
talk to Henrietta about that.
He got up to accompany his pa.
tlent to the door. His hand took
hers in a warm clasp, friendly,
encouraging. His voice was en-.
c%ouraging, too, full OF interest and
sympathy. She went away re.
vived, almost happy. DR.. Christow
took such an interest.
AS the door closed behind her.
John Christow forgot her, he had
really been hardly aware of her
existence ever when she had been
there. He had just done his stuff,
1t was all automatic. Yet, though
it had hardly ruffled the surface
OF his mind, he had given out
strength. His had been the auto.
matte response OF the healer and
he felt the sag Of depleted energy.
Lord, he thought again, I'm
til ed.
Only one more patient to see
and then the clear space Of the
weekend. His mind dwelt on il
gratefully. Golden leaves tinged
with red and brown, the soft moist
smell OF autumn-the road down
through the wooGs-the wood
fires. Lucy. most unique and de-
Eghtful of creatures-with her
curious, elusive, will-o'-the-wisr
mind. He'd rather have Henry and
Lucy than any other host ano
hostess in England. And The Ho1
low was the most delightful house
he knew. On Sunday he'd walk
the woods with Henrietta-up onto
the crest of the hill and along the
ridge. Walking with Henrietta he'd
forget that there were any sick
people in the world. Thank good.
ness, he thought, there's never any
thing the matter with Henrietta.
And then with a sudden quick
twist of humor, she'd never let or
to me if there was!
One more patient to see. He
must press the bell on his desk.
/. Yet, unaccountably, he de-
layed. Already he was late. Lunch
would be ready upstairs in the
dining room. Gerda and the chill
6ren would be waiting. He must
get on.
Yet he sat there motionless. He
was sc tired-so very tired.
It had been growing On him
lately, this tiredness. It was at the
root Of the constantly increasing
irritability which he was aware OF
but could not check. Poor Gerda,
he thought she has a lot to put up
with. If only she was not SO
submissive so ready to admit
herself in the wrong when hall
the time it was he who was to
blame. There were days when
everything that Gerda said or die
conspired to irritate him, and
mainly, he thought ruefully, it was
her virtues that irritated him. Il
was her patience, her unselfish-
ness, her subordination of her
wishes to his, that aroused his i'll
humor. And she never resented
his quick bursts of temper, never
stuck to her own opinion in pref
erence to his, never attempted tc
strike out a line of her own.
well, he thought, that's why
you married her. isn't it? What
are you complaining about? After
that summer at San Miguel.)
Curious, when you came tc
think of it, that the very qualities
that irritated him in Gerda, were
the qualities he wanted so badly
to find in Henrietta. What irritated
him in Henrietta-Cno, that was
the wrong word-it was anger,
rot irritation, that she %inspired)-
what angered him there was Hen
rietta's answering rectitude
where he was concerned. 1t was
so at variance with her attitude to