his age."

"I know it. But there's nothing to be done."

"What makes you say that?"

"We've tried specialists--cures. I've been half around the world with
him."

The Doctor nodded. "It's hard to pull up at that age."

"My mother's life was spent in trying to help him. He's a dear old
chap, really."

"There is, of course, the possibility that he may get a grip on
himself."

Derry's languor left him. "Do you think there's the least hope of it?
Frankly? No platitudes?"

"We are making some rather interesting
experiments--psycho-analysis--things like that--"

He stood up. He was big and breezy. "What's the matter with you this
morning? You ought to be up and out."

Derry flushed. "Nothing--much."

The Doctor sat down again. "I'd tell most men to take a cold shower
and a two hours' tramp, but it's more than that with you--."