chapter 1 part 6
Dr. Armstrong was driving his Morris across Salisbury Plain. He was very tired. . . . Success had its penalties. There had been a time when he had sat in his consulting room in Harley Street, correctly apparelled, surrounded with the most up-to-date appliances and the most luxurious furnishings and waited-waited through the empty days for his venture to succeed or fail. . . * Well, it had succeeded! He'd been lucky! Lucky and skilful of course. He was a good man at his job-but that wasn't enough for success. You had to have luck as well. And he'd had it! An accurate diagnosis, a couple of grateful women patients-women with money and position-and word had got about. "You ought to try Armstrong -quite a young man-but so clever-Pam had been to all sorts of people for years and he put his finger on the trouble at once!" The ball had started rolling. And now Dr. Armstrong had definitely arrived. His days were full. He had little leisure. And so, on this August morning, he was glad that he was leaving London and going to be for some days on an island off the Devon coast. Not that it was exactly a holiday. The letter he had received had been rather vague in its terms, but there was nothing vague about the accompanying cheque. A whacking fee. These Owens must be rolling in money. Some little difficulty, it seemed, a husband who was worried about his wife's health and wanted a report on it without her being alarmed. She wouldn't hear of seeing a doctor. Her nerves- Nerves! The doctor's eyebrows went up. These women and their nerves! Well,
it was good for business, after all. Half the women who consulted him had nothing the matter with them but boredom, but they wouldn't thank you for telling them so! And one could usually find something. "A slightly uncommon condition of the-some long word-nothing at all serious-but it just needs putting right. A simple treatment." Well, medicine was mostly faith-healing when it came to it. And he had a good manner-he could inspire hope business ten-no, fifteen years ago. It had been a near thing, that! He'd been going to pieces. The shock had pulled him together. He'd cut out drink altogether. By Jove, it had been a near thing though. . . .
With a devastating ear-splitting blast on the hom an enormous Super Sports Dalmain car rushed past him at eighty miles an hour. Dr. Armstrong nearly went into the hedge. One of these young fools who tore round the country. He hated them. That had been a near shave, too. young fool! and belief. Lucky that he'd managed to pull himself together in time after that.
it was good for business, after all. Half the women who consulted him had nothing the matter with them but boredom, but they wouldn't thank you for telling them so! And one could usually find something. "A slightly uncommon condition of the-some long word-nothing at all serious-but it just needs putting right. A simple treatment." Well, medicine was mostly faith-healing when it came to it. And he had a good manner-he could inspire hope business ten-no, fifteen years ago. It had been a near thing, that! He'd been going to pieces. The shock had pulled him together. He'd cut out drink altogether. By Jove, it had been a near thing though. . . .
With a devastating ear-splitting blast on the hom an enormous Super Sports Dalmain car rushed past him at eighty miles an hour. Dr. Armstrong nearly went into the hedge. One of these young fools who tore round the country. He hated them. That had been a near shave, too. young fool! and belief. Lucky that he'd managed to pull himself together in time after that.