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The Pension Beaurepas by Henry James
page 10 of 81 (12%)

"That's often the best thing," I ventured to remark.

"It was a confession of weakness; they wanted me to stop plaguing
them. They didn't know enough to cure me, and that's the way they
thought they would get round it. I wanted to be cured--I didn't want
to be transported. I hadn't done any harm."

I assented to the general proposition of the inefficiency of doctors,
and asked my companion if he had been seriously ill.

"I didn't sleep," he said, after some delay.

"Ah, that's very annoying. I suppose you were overworked."

"I didn't eat; I took no interest in my food."

"Well, I hope you both eat and sleep now," I said.

"I couldn't hold a pen," my neighbour went on. "I couldn't sit
still. I couldn't walk from my house to the cars--and it's only a
little way. I lost my interest in business."

"You needed a holiday," I observed.

"That's what the doctors said. It wasn't so very smart of them. I
had been paying strict attention to business for twenty-three years."

"In all that time you have never had a holiday?" I exclaimed with
horror.
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