Lindsay crossed to his side. The talk at dinner had not put the
distinguished specialist in a sympathetic light, but the younger man felt
grateful for this act of cordiality. They chatted about St. Isidore's,
about the medical schools in Chicago, and the medical societies. At last
Dr. Lindsay suggested casually, as he refilled his liqueur-glass:

"You have made some plans?"

"No, not serious ones. I have thought of taking a vacation. Then there is
another hospital berth I could have. Head of a small hospital in a mining
town. But I don't like to leave Chicago, on the whole."

"You are right," the older physician remarked slowly. "Such a place would
bury you; you would never be heard of."

Sommers smiled at the penalty held out, but he did not protest.

"There isn't any career in hospital work, anyway, for a steady thing. You
get side-tracked."

"I like it better than family practice," Sommers jerked out. "You don't
have to fuss with people, women especially. Then I like the excitement of
it."

"That won't last long," the older man smiled indulgently. "And you'll have
a wife some day, who will make you take a different view. But there are
other things--office practice."

He dilated on the advantages of office practice, while the younger man
smoked and listened deferentially. Office practice offered a pleasant