It was impossible for me to dictate to a
nervous, anxious woman, whose obvious mental condition acted most
annoyingly upon my nerves, and I suggested that she bring her husband
into her room, and let him sit there while she worked. With this
proposition my secretary was delighted.
"Oh, that will be charming!" she cried. "He will sit just as still as a
mouse, and will not disturb either of us, and I shall be able to see how
he feels without saying a word."
For four days the malarial gentleman, as quiet as a mouse, sat by my
secretary's window, while she wrote at the table, and I walked up and
down my study, or threw myself into one chair or another, endeavoring to
forget that that man was sitting by the window; that he was trying his
best not to do anything which might disturb me; that he did not read, or
write, or occupy his mind in any way; that he heard every word I
dictated to his wife without indicating that he was not deaf, or that he
was capable of judging whether my words were good, bad, or unworthy of
consideration. Not only did I endeavor not to think of him, but I tried
not to see either him or his wife. The silent, motionless figure of the
one, and the silent but animated and vivacious figure of the other,
filled with an eager desire to do her work properly, with a bubbling and
hearty love for her husband, and an evident joyousness in the fact that
she could love, work, and watch, all at the same time, drove from my
mind every thought of travel or foreign experiences.
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