I was very young at the time, and I made rather an awkward mistake--I don't mean a professional mistake--but a mistake nevertheless that I ought to have had more sense than to make.
"My patient was a good-looking, pleasant-spoken gentleman.

The wife was a pretty, dark little woman, but I never liked her from the first; she was one of those perfectly proper, frigid women, who always give me the idea that they were born in a church, and have never got over the chill.
However, she seemed very fond of him, and he of her; and they talked very prettily to each other--too prettily for it to be quite genuine, I should have said, if I'd known as much of the world then as I do now.
"The operation was a difficult and dangerous one.

When I came on duty in the evening I found him, as I expected, highly delirious.

I kept him as quiet as I could, but towards nine o'clock, as the delirium only increased, I began to get anxious.

I bent down close to him and listened to his ravings.