Parkman's patients away from him.
Ernestine was tired, and she believed she would have to admit that she
was nervous. She had been working harder, she supposed, than she should,
but the further she went the more she saw to do, and something from
within was eternally pushing her on.
As she waited, her mind turned to the stories that office must hold.
How much of anxiety and suffering and sorrow and tragedy--and occasional
joy--it must know. The mothers who brought children whom others had
declared incurable--how tense these moments of waiting must be for them!
The husband and wife who came together to find out whether she would have
to have the operation--how many of the crucial moments of life were lived
in such places as this! The power in these doctors vested! The power of
their voice, their slightest glance, in holding men from the brink of
despair! Who could know the human heart better than they? They did not
meet the every day men and women well groomed with restraints and
pretence.
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