My appetite has long
been bad, and so on. But it isn't that sort of thing I mind. I could
fight with that well enough. It's my horrible deterioration of mind that
troubles me, that has brought me here, to you, in spite of my hatred of
London, of every city. It was in a city, though not in London, that I
bore that burden I told you of. It doesn't seem possible to me, but I'm
told, and I read, that my mind diseased may be an effect, and that the
cause may lie in my body. That's why I come to you. Doctor Levillier,
root out the disease if you can."
She ended speaking almost with passion, her lips trembling all the time
and her eyes never leaving his face. Then she added with a curious
characteristic abruptness:
"I will tell you that I've plenty of money. Lack of funds is no weapon
against my return to health--if my return is in any way possible."
Doctor Levillier smiled slightly.
"You are anticipating the usual 'long-sea voyage' formula, I see," he
said.
"Possibly."
"I should not prescribe it for you off-hand," he said. "Sea air is not a
specific for all nervous complaints, as some people seem to think. You
have no bodily pain?"
"No. I often wish I had."
"What you tell me about your gradual collapse coming on after the crisis
of your troubles was over, and not during it, does not surprise me.
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