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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Stark Munro Letters"


"I always make a point of walking through the
doctor's quarter," said Cullingworth. "We are passing
through it now. They all come to their windows and gnash
their teeth and dance until I am out of sight."
"Why should you quarrel with them? What is the
matter with them?" I asked.
"Pooh! what's the use of being mealy-mouthed about
it?" said he. "We are all trying to cut each other's
throats, and why should we be hypocritical over it? They
haven't got a good word for me, any one of them; so I
like to take a rise out of them."
"I must say that I can see no sense in that. They
are your brothers in the profession, with the same
education and the same knowledge. Why should you take an
offensive attitude towards them?"
"That's what I say, Dr. Munro," cried his wife. "It
is so very unpleasant to feel that one is surrounded by
enemies on every side."
"Hetty's riled because their wives wouldn't call
upon her," he cried. "Look at that, my dear," jingling
his bag. "That is better than having a lot of brainless
women drinking tea and cackling in our drawing-room.
I've had a big card printed, Munro, saying that we don't
desire to increase the circle of our acquaintance. The
maid has orders to show it to every suspicious person who
calls."
"Why should you not make money at your practice, and
yet remain on good terms with your professional
brethren?" said I. "You speak as if the two things were
incompatible.


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