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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Stark Munro Letters"

Then when
I think things are sufficiently quiet, I go out and brush
down the front with my broom, leaning it against the wall
and looking up meditatively at the stars whenever anyone
passes. Then, later still, I bring out my polishing
paste, my rag, and my chamois leather; and I assure you
that if practice went by the brilliancy of one's plate,
I should sweep the town.
Who do you think was the first person who broke this
spell of silence? The ruffian whom I had fought under
the lamp-post. He is a scissors-grinder it seems, and
rang to know if I had a job for him. I could not help
grinning at him when I opened the door and saw who it
was. He showed no sign of recognising me, however,
which is hardly to be wondered at.
The next comer was a real bona fide patient, albeit
a very modest one. She was a little anaemic old maid, a
chronic hypochondriac I should judge, who had probably
worked her way round every doctor in the town, and was
anxious to sample this novelty. I don't know whether I
gave her satisfaction. She said that she would come
again on Wednesday, but her eyes shifted as she said it.
One and sixpence was as much as she could pay, but it was
very welcome. I can live three days on one and sixpence.
I think that I have brought economy down to its
finest point. No doubt, for a short spell I could manage
to live on a couple of pence a day; but what I am doing
now is not to be a mere spurt, but my regular mode of
life for many a month to come.


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