ten to me. As
luck would have it he struck something interesting almost at once, and
for what seemed hours he stood there listening and listening to it. But
it was boring for me, because I really had very little to do. I could
have bitten him in the neck with some ease ... or I might have licked
his ear. Beyond that, nothing seemed to offer.

I moistened my lips and spoke.

"Am I dying?" I asked in a broken voice.

"Don't talk," he said. "Just breathe naturally."

"I am dying," I thought, "and he is hiding it from me." It was a
terrible reflection.

"Um," he said and moved on.

By and by he went and listened behind my back. It is very bad form to
listen behind a person's back. I did not tell him so, however. I wanted
him to like me.

"Yes," he said. "Now cough."

"I haven't a cough," I pointed out.

"Make the noise of coughing," he said severely.

Extremely nervous, I did my celebrated imitation of a man with an
irritating cough.

"H'm! h'm! h'm! h'm!"

"Yes," said the doctor. "Go on."

"He likes it," I said to myself, "and he must obviously be an excellent
judge. I shall devote more time to mimicry in future. H'm! h'm! h'm!..."

The doctor came round to where I could see him again.

"Now cough like this," he said. "Honk! honk!"

I gave my celebrated imitation of a sick rhinoceros gasping out its
life. It went well. I got an encore.

"Um," he said gravely, "um." He put his stethoscope away and looked
earnestly at me.

"Tell me the worst," I begged. "I'm not bothering about this stupid
insurance business now. That's off, of course. But--how long have I? I
must put my affairs in order. Can you promise me a week?"

He said nothing. He took my wrists in his hands and pressed them. It was
evident that grief over-mastered him and that he was taking a silent
farewell of me. I bowed my head. Then, determined to bear my
death-sentence like a man, I said firmly, "So be it," and drew myself
away from him.

However, he wouldn't let me go.

"Come, come," I said to him, "you must not give way"; and I made an
effort to release one of my hands, meaning to pat him encouragingly on
the shoulder.

He resisted....

I realized suddenly that I had mistaken his meaning, and that he was
simply feeling my pulses.

"Um," he said, "um," and continued to finger my wrists.

Clenching my teeth, and with the veins starting out on my forehead, I
worked my pulses as hard as I could.

. . . .