CHAPTER XXXVII

“Ididn’tgotoanyotherdoctor.I—I—itwouldtaketoolongtoexplain.ButIbelievedIwasgoingtodiesoon.” Dr.Trenthaltedbeforeher. “Icanneverforgivemyself.Whatayearyoumusthavehad!Butyoudon’tlook—Ican’tunderstand!” “Nevermind,”saidValancydully.“Andsothere’snothingthematterwithmyheart?” “Well,nothingserious.Youhadwhatiscalledpseudo-angina.It’sneverfatal—passesawaycompletelywithpropertreatment.Orsometimeswithashockofjoy.Haveyoubeentroubledmuchwithit?” “NotatallsinceMarch,”answeredValancy.Sherememberedthemarvellousfeelingofre-creationshehadhadwhenshesawBarneycominghomesafeafterthestorm.Hadthat“shockofjoy”curedher? “Thenlikelyyou’reallright.Itoldyouwhattodointheletteryoushouldhavegot.AndofcourseIsupposedyou’dgotoanotherdoctor.Child,whydidn’tyou?” “Ididn’twantanybodytoknow.” “Idiot,”saidDr.Trentbluntly.“Ican’tunderstandsuchfolly.AndpooroldMissSterling.Shemusthavegotyourletter—tellinghertherewasnothingseriousthematter.Well,well,itcouldn’thavemadeanydifference.Hercasewashopeless.Nothingthatshecouldhavedoneorleftundonecouldhavemadeanydifference.Iwassurprisedshelivedaslongasshedid—twomonths.Shewasherethatday—notlongbeforeyou.Ihatedtotellherthetruth.YouthinkI’mabluntoldcurmudgeon—andmylettersarebluntenough.Ican’tsoftenthings.ButI’masnivellingcowardwhenitcomestotellingawomanfacetofacethatshe’sgottodiesoon.ItoldherI’dlookupsomefeaturesofthecaseIwasn’tquitesureofandletherknownextday.Butyougotherletter—lookhere,‘DearMissS-t-e-r-l-i-n-g.’” “Yes.Inoticedthat.ButIthoughtitamistake.Ididn’tknowtherewereanySterlingsinPortLawrence.” “Shewasth