He drew his chair in front of Herman Medfield, leaning forward a little,
with his elbows on his knees.
"Find it hard, do you?" he asked pleasantly.
"I've known easier things," replied Herman Medfield dryly.
The doctor regarded him without comment. He reached out a hand to his
pulse and took out his watch and sat with bent head a minute. Then he
slipped the watch back into his pocket and stood up.
"I'd like to put you on that couch a few minutes," he said. "That's
right--over there." He rolled up the window-shades and moved the couch
nearer to the window. Herman Medfield lay down, half grudgingly.
"Now, if you will relax and breathe easily--" The doctor's face had
grown absorbed. He seemed not to see Herman Medfield, but something that
might have been an abstraction--the essence, or spirit, of Medfield.
And while he gazed at this Medfield abstraction, Dr. Carmon's hands were
busy. They thumped the liver and sounded the heart and pounded the back
of Herman Medfield with quick, absorbed movements that left no depth
unsounded.
"Um-m!" he said at last.