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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Stark Munro Letters"


"This is my consulting room," said he, leading the
way into one of these. It was a good-sized square
chamber, perfectly empty save for two plain wooden
chairs and an unpainted table with two books and a
stethoscope upon it. "It doesn't look like four or five
thousand a year, does it? Now, there is an exactly
similar one opposite which you can have for yourself.
I'll send across any surgical cases which may turn
up. To-day, however, I think you had better stay
with me, and see how I work things."
"I should very much like to," said I.
"There are one or two elementary rules to be observed
in the way of handling patients," he remarked, seating
himself on the table and swinging his legs. "The most
obvious is that you must never let them see that you want
them. It should be pure condescension on your part
seeing them at all; and the more difficulties you throw
in the way of it, the more they think of it. Break your
patients in early, and keep them well to heel. Never
make the fatal mistake of being polite to them. Many
foolish young men fall into this habit, and are ruined in
consequence. Now, this is my form"--he sprang to the
door, and putting his two hands to his mouth he bellowed:
"Stop your confounded jabbering down there! I might as
well be living above a poultry show! There, you see," he
added to me, "they will think ever so much more of me for
that."
"But don't they get offended?" I asked.


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