"
The incident that Jephson's remark had reminded me of, she told me one
afternoon, as I sat propped up by the fire, trying to drink a glass of
port wine, and feeling somewhat depressed at discovering I did not like
it.
"One of my first cases," she said, "was a surgical operation. 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. Over and over again I heard the name 'Louise.
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