"Here, here! Wait! You'll do nothing of the sort. I said forget that
sort of thing. You can't go wandering off to dig in the desert; you
might as well stay in this place and dig here. Get away from it all. Go
where there are people."

"But, Doctor Raymond, there are people in Syria, a great many of them,
and most interesting people. I have--"

"No. You are to forget Syria and Egypt and your work altogether. Keep
out of doors, meet people, exercise--play golf, perhaps. The main
trouble with you just now is nerve weariness and lack of strength. Eat,
sleep, rest, build up. Eat regular meals at regular times. Go to bed at
a regular hour. I would suggest your going to some resort, either in the
mountains or at the seashore. Enjoy yourself."

"But, doctor, I DON'T enjoy myself at such places. I am quite wretched.
Really I am."

"Look here, you must do precisely as I tell you. Your lungs are quite
all right at present, but, as you know, they have a tendency to become
all wrong with very little provocation. I tell you to go away at once,
at once. And STAY away, for a year at least. If you don't, my friend,
you are going to die. Is that plain?"

It was plain, certainly. Galusha took off his spectacles and rubbed
them, absently.

"Dear me!... Dear me!--ah--Oh, dear!" he observed.

A resort? Galusha knew precious little about resorts; they were places