Though I lived to a hundred I should never be able to approve of
this. And you don't know how hard it is to consent to a thing one
disapproves of. You couldn't do it yourself. Oh, what WAS the use,
Richard, of toiling as you have, if now, just when you can afford to
charge higher fees and the practice is beginning to bring in money--"

Mahony let her hand drop, even giving it a slight push from him, and
turned to pace the floor anew. "Oh, money, money, money! I'm sick of
the very sound of the word. But you talk as if nothing else mattered.
Can't you for once, wife, see through the letter of the thing to the
spirit behind? I admit the practice HAS brought in a tidy income of
late; but as for the rest of the splendours, they exist, my dear, only
in your imagination. If you ask me, I say I lead a dog's life--why,
even a navvy works only for a fixed number of hours per diem! My days
have neither beginning nor end. Look at yesterday! Out in the blazing
sun from morning till night--I didn't get back from the second round
till nine. At ten a confinement that keeps me up till three. From three
till dawn I toss and turn, far too weary to sleep. By the time six
o'clock struck--you of course were slumbering sweetly--I was in hell
with tic. At seven I could stand it no longer and got up for the
chloroform bottle: an hour's rest at any price--else how face the crowd
in the waiting-room? And you call that splendour?--luxurious ease? If
so, my dear, words have not the same meaning any more for you and me."

Mary did not point out that she had said nothing of the kind, or that
he had set up an extreme case as typical. She tightened her lips; her
big eyes were very solemn.

"And it's not the work alone," Richard was declaring, "it's the place,
wife--the people. I'm done with 'em, Mary--utterly done! Upon my word,
if I thought I had to go on living among them even for another
twelvemonth ..."

"But PEOPLE are the same all the world over!" The protest broke from
her in spite of herself.

"No, by God, they're not!" And here Richard launched out into a
diatribe against his fellow-colonists: "This sordid riff-raff! These
hard, mean, grasping money-grubbers!" that made Mary stand aghast. What
could be the matter with him? What was he thinking of, he who was
ordinarily so generous? Had he forgotten the many kindnesses shown him,
the warm gratitude of his patients, people's sympathy, at the time of
his illness? But he went on: "My demands