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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

You'd grow
fat on it and have a delicate little life all to yourself. Well, what
do you say? I can lie like sixty, Bibbs! Shall I tell your father
he'll lose another of his boys if you don't go to Sicily?"
"I don't want to go to Sicily," said Bibbs. "I want to stay right
here."
The doctor's drowsiness disappeared for a moment, and he gave his
patient a sharp glance. "It's a risk," he said. "I think we'll find
you're so much better he'll send you back to the shop pretty quick.
Something's got hold of you lately; you're not quite so lackadaisical
as you used to be. But I warn you: I think the shop will knock you
just as it did before, and perhaps even harder, Bibbs."
He rose, shook himself, and rubbed his eyelids. "Well, when we go
over you this afternoon what are we going to say about it?"
"Tell him I'm ready," said Bibbs, looking at the floor.
"Oh no," Gurney laughed. "Not quite yet; but you may be almost.
We'll see. Don't forget I said to walk down."
And when the examination was concluded, that afternoon, the doctor
informed Bibbs that the result was much too satisfactory to be
pleasing. "Here's a new 'situation' for a one-act farce," he said,
gloomily, to his next patient when Bibbs had gone.


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