Wilson stirred, but he found no adequate words. Only a part of what K.

said got to him. For a moment he was back in a famous clinic, and this man

across from him--it was not believable!

"It's not hard work, and it's safe. If I make a mistake there's no life

hanging on it. Once I made a blunder, a month or two ago. It was a big

one. It cost me three dollars out of my own pocket. But--that's all it

cost."

Wilson's voice showed that he was more than incredulous; he was profoundly

moved.

"We thought you were dead. There were all sorts of stories. When a year

went by--the Titanic had gone down, and nobody knew but what you were on

it--we gave up. I--in June we put up a tablet for you at the college. I

went down for the--for the services."

"Let it stay," said K. quietly. "I'm dead as far as the college goes,

anyhow. I'll never go back. I'm Le Moyne now. And, for Heaven's sake,

don't be sorry for me. I'm more contented than I've been for a long time."

The wonder in Wilson's voice was giving way to irritation.

"But--when you had everything! Why, good Heavens, man, I did your operation

to-day, and I've been blowing about it ever since."

"I had everything for a while. Then I lost the essential. When that

happened I gave up. All a man in our profession has is a certain method,

knowledge--call it what you like,--and faith in himself. I lost my

self-confidence; that's all. Certain things happened; kept on happening.

So I gave it up. That's all. It's not dramatic. For about a year I was

damned sorry for myself. I've stopped whining now."

"If every surgeon gave up because he lost cases--I've just told you I did

your operation to-day. There was just a chance for the man, and I took my

courage in my hands and tried it. The poor devil's dead."

K. rose rather wearily and emptied his pipe over the balcony rail.

"That's not the same. That's the chance he and you took. What happened to

me was--different."

Pipe in hand, he stood staring out at the ailanthus tree with its crown of

stars. Instead of the Street with its quiet houses, he saw the men he had

known and worked with and taught, his friends who spoke his language, who

had loved him, many of them, gathered about a bronze tablet set in a wall

of the old college; he saw their earnest faces and grave eyes. He heard-He heard the soft rustle of Sidney's dress as she came into the little room

behind them.




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