debt and bankruptcy presented themselves to her. She saw her
black satin dress in the ruthless clutches of a pawnbroker, the house
and furniture sold over her head, the children down at heel, and herself
driven to work for her living--needlework, nursing, charing--what might
not things come to? However, she went to the doctor and told him of the
failure of their scheme.

'I've come to the end of my tether, Mrs Clinton; I really don't know
what to do. The only thing I can suggest is that a mental specialist
should examine into the state of his mind. I really think he's wrong in
his head, and, you know, it may be necessary for your welfare and his
own that he be kept under restriction.'

'Well, doctor,' answered Mrs Clinton, putting her handkerchief up to her
eyes and beginning to cry, 'well, doctor, of course I shouldn't like him
to be shut up--it seems a terrible thing, and I shall never 'ave a
moment's peace all the rest of my life; but if he must be shut up, for
Heaven's sake let it be done at once, before the money's gone.' And here
she began to sob very violently.

The doctor said he would immediately write to the specialist, so that
they might hold a consultation on Mr Clinton the very next day.

So, the following morning, Mrs Clinton again put on her black satin
dress, and, further, sent to her grocer's for a bottle of sherry, her
inner consciousness giving her to understand that specialists expected
something of the kind....

The specialist came. He was a tall, untidily-dressed man, with his hair
wild and straggling, as if he had just got out of bed. He was very
clever, and very impatient of stupid people, and he seldom met anyone
whom he did not think in one way or another intensely stupid.

Mr Clinton, as before, had gone out, but Mrs Clinton did her best to
entertain the two doctors. The specialist, who talked most incessantly
himself, was extremely impatient of other people's conversation.

'Why on earth don't people see that they're much more interesting when
they hold their tongues than when they speak?' he was in the habit of
saying, and immediately would pour out a deluge of words, emphasising
and explaining the point, giving instances of its truth....

'You must see a lot of strange things, doctor,' said Mrs Clinton,
amiably.

'Yes,' answered the specialist.

'I think it must be very interesting to be a doctor,' said Mrs Clinton.

'Yes, yes.'

'You _must_ see a lot of strange things.'

'