"She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook
down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance
is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the
side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly.
Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get
well. Has she anything on her mind?"
"She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue.
"Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice
- a man for instance?"
"A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a
man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind."
"Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that
science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish.
But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her
funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power
of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the
new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five
chance for her, instead of one in ten."
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