Obeying Dr. Clifton’s instructions, I spent two days in bed, eating and sleeping and reading Sherlock Holmes. I confess I overdosed on my prescribed treatment, gulping down one story after another. Before the end of the second day Judith had been down to the library and fetched another volume of Conan Doyle for me. She had grown suddenly kind toward me since my collapse. It was not the fact that she was sorry for me that altered her—though she was sorry— but the fact that now Emmeline’s presence was no longer a secret in the house, she was at liberty to let her natural sympathies govern her exchanges with me, instead of maintaining a constantly guarded facade.

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