His housekeeper, Mrs.Finch, always prepared the invalid's dainty little dinners: the excellent beef-tea and soups, the jellies, rusks, and delicate puddings, were all Mrs.Finch's handiwork.
Mrs.Pratt's cookery was not to be depended on, and though she pretended to grumble at other folks' interference, she was only too glad to be saved trouble.
It may be doubted whether David Carlyon really realized his own serious condition until the physician's opinion had been made known to him.
"Advanced phthisis," he muttered thoughtfully.

But when Dr.Broderick proceeded to recommend Mentone or some southern health resort for the winter, he had turned upon him almost abruptly.
"I suppose Davos Platz would not cure me ?" he asked.

Then, as the doctor hesitated with the natural dislike to give pain, David continued bluntly-- "It would be the truest kindness on your part, Dr.Broderick, to tell me the truth.

If I take your advice and go to one of these places, may I expect to get well in time ?" "I am afraid not, Mr.Carlyon," returned the physician reluctantly.

"It would be wrong of me to let you go away with this idea.