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Updated: June 23, 2025
As I might have known beforehand she was in league with McMeekin. Instead of agreeing with me that the man was a fool, she smiled at me in that particularly trying way called bright and cheery. "But wouldn't it be nice to sit up for a little?" she said. "No, it wouldn't." "It would be a change for you, and you'd sleep better afterward."
But the permission itself was far worse than the manner in which it was given. I did not in the least want to get up. Bed was beginning to feel tolerably comfortable. I hated the thought of an armchair. I hated still more bitterly the idea of having to walk across the floor. I suppose McMeekin saw by my face that I did not want to get up.
But just because I have, through no fault of my own, contracted a disease which neither you nor McMeekin know how to cure, I am not allowed to ask a simple question. You may think, I have no doubt you do think, that you have acted with firmness and tact. In reality you have been guilty of blood-curdling cruelty of a kind probably unmatched in the annals of the Spanish Inquisition."
"Even the Nationalists would be obliged to admit that I'd done a particularly noble thing." "I don't believe Vittie has the influenza." "McMeekin said so." "It would be just like Vittie," said Titherington, "to pretend he had it so as to get an excuse for calling in McMeekin. He knows McMeekin has been wobbling ever since you got ill." This silenced me.
His aunts must have had a trying time with him that night unless McMeekin came to their rescue with an unusually powerful sleeping draught. What Lalage said did not keep me awake; but the immediate results of her meeting broke in upon a sleep which I needed very badly. My nurse left me for the night and I dropped off into a pleasant doze.
I'll send you round a dozen of champagne to-morrow, proper stuff, and by the time you've swallowed it you'll be chirrupping like a grasshopper." "I'm not getting better, and that brute McMeekin wouldn't let me look at champagne. He gives me gruel and a vile slop he calls beef tea." "If he doesn't give you something to buck you up," said Titherington, "I'll set Miss Beresford on him.
The older term, rather more expressive, was disembowelling. Four hundred years ago McMeekin, if he had a grievance against me, would have denounced me to the Archdeacon. Now, things have changed so far that it is the Archdeacon who denounces me to McMeekin. The result for me is much the same. I do not suppose that my case would either then or now be one for extreme penalties.
He was bubbling over with something he wanted to say, and twenty nurses would not have stopped him. "We had a great meeting," he said. "The hall was absolutely packed and the boys at the back nearly killed a man who wanted to ask questions." "McMeekin, I hope," I said feebly. "No. McMeekin was on the platform mind that now on the platform.
She always smoothes her apron with both hands when she sees him, which is a sign that she would like to do him a bodily injury if she could. On this occasion, alter smoothing her apron and shoving a protruding hair pin into the back of her hair, she marched out of the room. "McMeekin tells me," I said to Titherington, "that Vittie has got the influenza. Is it true?"
This made me the more determined to stay where I was, and so McMeekin's illness was a very serious blow to me. I satisfied myself by inquiry that he was not likely to get well immediately and then I sent for another doctor. This man turned out to be one of my original supporters and I think his feelings must have been hurt by my calling in McMeekin.
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