novels. My greatest grief--it is not to give up the practice I
have bought--although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow to me;
my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette. If you could only
see her, if you only knew her--then you would understand. I have
her picture here--"

The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph
to the doctor, who gently refused it. The other blushed with
embarrassment.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am ridiculous. That happens to
me, sometimes. Only, put yourself in my place--I love her so!"
His voice broke.

"My dear boy," said the doctor, feelingly, "that is exactly why
you ought not to marry her."

"But," he cried, "if I back out without saying anything they will
guess the truth, and I shall be dishonored."

"One is not dishonored because one is ill."

"But with such a disease! People are so stupid. I myself,
yesterday--I should have laughed at anyone who had got into such
a plight; I should have avoided him, I should have despised him!"
And suddenly George broke down again. "Oh!" he cried, "if I were
the only one to suffer; but she--she is in love with me. I swear
it to you! She is so good; and she will be so unhappy!"

The doctor answered, "She would be unhappier later on."