When A Doctor Does Go

To All The World He Was The Man Of Violence, Half Animal And Half Demon; But To Her He Always Remained The Little Wilful Boy Of Her Own Girlhood, The Child Who Had Clung To Her Hand. Evil Indeed Is The Man Who Has Not One Woman To Mourn Him.

Was It Hardness, Was It Selfishness, That She Should Ask Me To Risk My Life For Her Own Glorification? Such Thoughts May Come To Middle Age; But Never To Ardent Three-and-twenty In The Fever Of His First Love.

Anything Is Better Than Stagnation.

You Know How Easily And Suddenly These Things Happen, Beginning In Playful Teasing And Ending In Something A Little Warmer Than Friendship. You Squeeze The Slender Arm Which Is Passed Through Yours, You Venture To Take The Little Gloved Hand, You Say Good Night At Absurd Length In The Shadow Of The Door. It Is Innocent And Very Interesting, Love Trying His Wings In A First Little Flutter.

I Know, My Dear Watson, That You Share My Love Of All That Is Bizarre And Outside The Conventions And Humdrum Routine Of Daily Life.