One day about three weeks ago he came into my consulting
room after breakfast.
"Could you come with me. to a consultation?" he
asked.
"With pleasure."
"I have my carriage outside."
He told me something of the case as we went. It was
a young fellow, an only son, who had been suffering from
nervous symptoms for some time, and lately from
considerable pain in his head. "His people are living
with a patient of mine, General Wainwright," said Porter.
"He didn't like the symptoms, and thought he would have
a second opinion."
We came to the house, a great big one, in its own
grounds, and had a preliminary talk with the dark-faced,
white-haired Indian soldier who owns it. He was
explaining the responsibility that he felt, the patient
being his nephew, when a lady entered the room. "This is
my sister, Mrs. La Force," said he, "the mother of the
gentleman whom you are going to see."
I recognised her instantly. I had met her before and
under curious circumstances. (Dr. Stark Munro here
proceeds to narrate again how he had met the La Forces,
having evidently forgotten that he had already done so in
Letter VI.) When she was introduced I could see that she
had not associated me with the young doctor in the train.
I don't wonder, for I have started a beard, in the hope
of making myself look a little older. She was
naturally all anxiety about her son, and we went up with
her (Porter and I) to have a look at him.
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