"It is a subject upon, which I cannot pretend to advise you.
It is a matter of feeling rather than of reason, and it is a matter which you yourself must determine.

If I knew any man whom I could honestly recommend to you, it would be another affair; but I don't.
Tom's illness is the simplest thing in the world, and I feel myself quite competent to pull him through it, without fuss or bother; but if you think otherwise, pray put me out of the question.

There's one fact, however, of which I'm bound to remind you.

Like many fine big stalwart fellows of his stamp, your husband is as nervous as a hysterical woman; and if you call in a strange doctor, who will pull long faces, and put on the professional solemnity, the chances are that he'll take alarm, and do himself more mischief in a few hours than your new adviser can undo in as many weeks." There was a little pause after this.

Georgy's opinions, and suspicions, and anxieties were alike vague; and this last suggestion of Mr.
Sheldon's put things in a new and alarming light.