He acknowledged that going twice downstairs had been rather too much for
him--the first time he had only gone down to put an end to the
uncomfortable draught through the house--and willingly took his place on
the sofa at my desire.

It was his chest, he said. By the help of the stethoscope, I found that
this was only too true. His chest, indeed, was in such a condition that
it was only a question of gaining time, not of saving life; for one lung
was entirely gone, and the other seriously affected.

During the remainder of the evening, both he and I felt ourselves
re-established on the old footing, my authority as doctor now giving me
a slight superiority.

At nine o'clock, I declared that he must go to bed, and I told him that
the next morning I intended to come again, and prescribe what was
needful. I heard he was not to be at school before eleven: until that
hour he promised me not to go out.

When I came home, I found my wife in great anxiety about me. She could
not conceive how a sensible man, and a doctor into the bargain, who gave
others such good advice, could be out more than was necessary in such
dreadful weather; and I had been out in it the whole time since dinner.

There was nothing to be said to this, and I only considered, while she
talked, how I could best win her over to the cause which I now had at
heart. My wife had not the slightest acquaintance with my dying friend,
and, if I knew her aright, might even feel hurt when I told her that he
had, in a way, possessed my affection before I knew her.