tch of his arm. There it
lay--obvious and aggravating, tempting, baffling, inaccessible. Pipe
and tobacco lay at hand to supply the soothing which he so sorely needed
at the end of a lonely, suffering day, and for the want of that box they
might as well have been a mile away! A bell was within reach, but what
use to ring that when no one was near to hear? The slovenly woman who
called herself a working housekeeper found it necessary to sally forth
each afternoon on long shopping expeditions, and during her absence her
master had to fend for himself as best he might.
Dislocation of the knee was the young man's malady, just a sharp, swift
rush at cricket, a slip on the dry grass, and Pat O'Shaughnessy
shuddered every time he thought of the hours and days which followed
that fall. He had asked to be taken home, for the tiny flat was a new
possession, and as such dear to his heart. And to his home they carried
him, and there he had lain already for longer than he cared to think.
He had progressed to the point when he had been able to dismiss an
excellent but uncongenial nurse, and manage with an hour's assistance
morning and night; and what with reading the newspapers, smoking his
pipe, and writing an occasional letter the first part of the day passed
quickly enough.
Lunch was served at one o'clock on a papier-mache tray spread with a
crumpled tray cloth. It was a tepid, tasteless, unappetising meal, for
the working housekeeper knew neither how to work nor to cook, and Pat
invariably sent it away almost untasted; yet every day he looked forward
afresh to the advent of one o'clock and the appearance of the tray. It
was something to happen, something to do, a change from the reading, of
which he was already getting tired. But, after lunch, after he had
wakened from the short siesta; and realised that it was not yet three
o'clock, and that six, seven hours still remained to be lived through
before he could reasonably hope to settle for the night--that was a
dreary time indeed, and Pat, whose interests lay all outdoors, knew no
means of lightening it.
For the first week of his confinement Pat had had a string of visitors.
The members of his cricket team had appeared to express sympathy and
encouragement; some of the men against whom he had been playing had also
put in an appearance; "fellows" had come up from "the office," but in
the busy life of London a man who goes _on_ being ill is apt to find
himself left al
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