The doctor exclaimed with emphasis, "No, no! You would not say
it. However, it is of no matter--go on."

"I tell you that I would say it. I am honest, and I would say
that I had deserved it. But no, I have worked, I have been a
regular grind. And now, when I think of the shame that is in
store for me, the disgusting things, the frightful catastrophes
to which I am condemned--"

"What is all this you are telling me?" asked the doctor,
laughing.

"Oh, I know, I know!" cried the other, and repeated what his
friend had told him about the man in a wheel-chair. "And they
used to call me handsome Raoul! That was my name--handsome
Raoul!"

"Now, my dear sir," said the doctor, cheerfully, "wipe your eyes
one last time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief into your
pocket, and hear me dry-eyed."

George obeyed mechanically. "But I give you fair warning," he
said, "you are wasting your time."

"I tell you--" began the other.

"I know exactly what you are going to tell me!" cried George.

"Well, in that case, there is nothing more for you to do here--
run along."