04 - Selected Short Stories - When Doctors Disagree

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter four of The Man Upstairs. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording
by Mike Harris. The Man Upstairs by P. G. Woodhouse
When Doctors Disagree is the story title. It's possible that,

(00:25):
at about the time at which this story opens, you
may have gone into the Hotel Belvoir for a hair cut.
Many people did. For the young man behind the scissors,
though of a singularly gloomy countenance, was undoubtedly an artist
in his line. He clipped judiciously, he left no ridges,
he never talked about the weather, and he allowed you

(00:45):
to go away unburdened by any bottle of hair food.
It's possible, too, that being there, you decided that you
might as well go the whole hog and be manicured
at the same time. It's not unlikely, moreover, that when
you had got over the first shock of finding your
hands so unexpectedly large and red, you felt disposed to
chat with the young lady who looked after that branch

(01:06):
of the business. In your genial way, you may have
permitted a note of gay but gentlemanly baddenedage to creep
into your end of the dialog, in which case, if
you would raise your eyes to the mirror, you would
certainly have observed a mark an increase of gloom in
the demeanor of the young man attending to your apex.
He took no official notice of the matter, a quick frown,

(01:28):
a tightening of the lips. Nothing more jealous as Arthur
Welsh was of all who inflicted gay baddenedage. However, gentlemanly
on Maud Peter's he never forgot that he was an artist. Never,
even in his blackest moments, had he yielded to the
temptation to dig the point of the scissors the merest
fraction of an inch into a client's skull. But Maud,

(01:49):
who saw, would understand, and if the customer was an
observant man, he would notice that her replies at that
juncture became somewhat absent, her smile. A little mechanical jealousy,
according to an eminent authority, is the hydra of calamities.
The sevenfold death. Arthur Welsh's was all that and a

(02:09):
bit over. It was a constant shadow on Maude's happiness.
No fair minded girl objects to a certain tinge of
jealousy kept within proper bounds. It's a compliment. It makes
for piquancy. It is the gin in the ginger beer
of devotion. But it should be a condiment, not a fluid.
It was the unfairness the thing which hurt Maud. Her

(02:31):
conscience was clear. She knew girls, several girls who gave
the young men with whom they walked out ample excuse
for being perfect Othello's. If she had ever flirted on
the open beach with the baritone of the troop of Pierot's,
like Jane Otty, she could have excused Arthur's attitude. If,
like Pauline Dicey, she had rollers skated for a solid

(02:51):
hour with a black mustached stranger while her fiancee floundered
in Mug's alley, she could have understood his frowning disapprovingly.
But she was not like Pauline. She scorned the coquetries
of Jane. Arthur was the center of her world, and
he knew it ever since the rainy evening when he
had sheltered her under his umbrella to her tube station.

(03:13):
He had known perfectly well how things were with her
and yet just because in a strictly business like way
she was civil to her customers, he must scowl and
bite his lip and behave generally, as if it had
been brought to his notice that he had been nurturing
a serpent in his bosom. It was worse than wicked.
It was unprofessional, she remonstrated with him. It isn't fair,

(03:37):
she said, one morning, when the rush of customers had
ceased and they had the shop to themselves, matters had
been worse than usual. That morning, after the days of
rain and grayness, the weather had turned over a new leaf.
The sun glinted among the bottles of unveiling lotion in
the window, and everything in the world seemed to have
relaxed and become cheerful. Unfortunately, everything had included the customers.

(03:59):
During all the last few days, they'd taken their seats
in moist gloom and brooding over the prospect of coming
colds in the head. It had little that was pleasant
to say to the divinity who was shaping their ends.
But to day it had been different, warm and happy.
They had bubbled over with gay small talk. It isn't fair,

(04:19):
she repeated Arthur, who was stropping a razor and whistling
tunelessly raised his eyebrows. His manner was frosty. I failed
to understand your meaning, he said, you know what I mean?
Do you think I don't see you frowning when I
was doing that gentleman's nails. The allusion was to the
client who had just left, a jovial individual with a

(04:41):
red face, who certainly had made Maud giggle a good deal.
And why not if a gentleman tells really funny stories?
What harm is there in giggling? You have to be
pleasant to people. If you snubbed customers, what happened? What
sooner or later it got round to the boss? And
then where were you? Besides, it was not as if
the red faced customers had been rude. Write down on

(05:02):
paper what he had said to her, and nobody could
object to it. Write down on paper what she had
said to him, and you couldn't object to that either.
It was just Arthur's silliness. She tossed her head. I
am gratified, said Arthur ponderously. In happier moments, Maude had
admired his gift of language. He read a great deal
encyclopedias and papers and things. I am gratified to find

(05:25):
that you had time to bestow a glance on me.
You appeared absorbed. Maude sniffed, unhappily. She had meant to
be cold and dignified throughout the conversation, but the sense
of her wrongs was beginning to be too much for her.
A large tear splashed on to her tray of orange sticks.
She wiped it away with the shammy leather. It isn't fair,

(05:46):
she sobbed. It isn't you know. I can't help it
if gentlemen talk and choken me. You know, it's all
in the day's work. I'm expected to be civil to
gentlemen who come in to have their hands done. Silly,
I should look sitting as if I had swallow polk.
I do think you might understand, Arthur, you being in
the profession yourself, he coughed. It isn't so much that

(06:09):
you talked to them as that you seem to like
He stopped. Maude's dignity had melted completely. Her face was
buried in her arms. She did not care if a
million customers came in all at the same time. Maud.
She heard him moving towards her, but she did not
look up. The next moment, his arms were round her
and he was babbling, and a customer pushing open the

(06:31):
door and noticed. Two minutes later retired hurriedly to get
shaved elsewhere, doubting whether Arthur's mind was on his shob
for a time, this little thunderstorm undoubtedly cleared the air.
For a day or two, Maude was happier than she
ever remembered to have been. Arthur's behavior was unexceptionable. He
bought her a wristwatch light brown leather, very smart. He

(06:54):
gave her some chocolates to eat in the tube. He
entertained her with amazing statistics culled from the weak which
he bought on Tuesdays. He was, in short, the perfect lover.
On the second day, the red faced man came in again.
Arthur joined in the laughter at his stories. Everything seemed ideal.
It could not last. Gradually things slipped back into the

(07:16):
old routine. Maude, looking up from her work, would see
the frown and the bitten lip. She began again to
feel uncomfortable and self conscious as she worked. Sometimes their
conversation on the way to the tube was almost formal.
It was useless to say anything. She had a wholesome
horror of being one of those women who nagged, and
she felt that to complain again would amount to nagging.

(07:38):
She tried to put the thing out of her mind,
but it insisted on staying there. In a way, she
understood his feelings. He loved her so much. She supposed
that he hated the idea of her exchanging a single
word with another man. This in the abstract was gratifying,
but in practice it distressed her. She wished she were
some sort of foreigners so that nobody could talk to her.

(07:59):
But then they would look out her, and that probably
would produce much the same results. It was a hard
world for a girl. Then the strange thing happened. Arthur reformed.
One might almost say he reformed with a jerk. It
was a parallel case to those sudden conversions at Welsh
Revival meetings. On Monday evening he had been at his worst.

(08:22):
On the following morning, he was a changed man. Not
even after the original thunderstorm had he been more docile.
Maude could not believe that. At first, the lip, once
bitten with stretched in a smile. She looked for the frown.
It was not there. Next day, it was the same,
and the day after that. When a week had gone
by and still the improvement was maintained, Maude felt that

(08:45):
she might now look upon it as permanent. A great
load seemed to have been taken off her mind. She
revised her views on the world. It was a very
good world, quite one of the best, with Arthur beaming
upon it like a sun. A number of eminent poets
and saists, in the course of the last few centuries
have recorded in their several ways their opinion that one

(09:05):
can have too much of a good thing. The truth
applies even to such a good thing as absence of jealousy.
Little by little, Maud began to grow uneasy. It began
to come home to her that she preferred the old Arthur,
of the scowl and the gnawed lip of him. She
had at least been sure, whatever discomfort she may have

(09:26):
suffered from his spirited imitations of othello, at any rate,
they had proved that he loved her, she would have
accepted gladly an equal amount of discomfort. Now in exchange
for the same certainty. She could not read this new Arthur.
His thoughts were a closed book. Superficially, he was all
that she could have wished. He still continued to escort

(09:47):
her to the tube to buy her occasional present to
tap when conversing the pleasantly sentimental Vein. But now these
things were not enough. Her heart was troubled, her thoughts
frightened her. The little black imp at the back of
her mind kept whispering and whispering, till at last she
was forced to listen. He's tired of you. He doesn't

(10:07):
love you any more. He's tired of you. It is
not everybody who, in times of mental stress, can find
ready to hand, among his or her personal acquaintances an
expert counselor, prepared at a moment's notice to listen with
sympathy and advise with tact and skill. Everyone's world is
full of friends, relatives, and others who will give advice
on any subject that may be presented to them. But

(10:30):
there are crises in life which cannot be left to
the amateur. It is the aim of a certain widely
read class of paper to fill this void. Of this class,
Fireside Chat is one of the best known representatives in
exchange for one penny, it's five hundred thousand readers received
every week, a serial story about life in highest Circles,

(10:54):
a short story packed with heart interest. Articles on the
removal of stains and the best method of coping with
the cold Mutton, anecdotes of royalty photographs, appearances in some dress,
chats about baby, brief but pointed dialogues between Blogson and Snogson, poems,
great Thoughts from the Dead, and Brainy half Hours in

(11:16):
the Editor's Cozy Sanctum, a slab of brown paper, and
the journal's leading feature advice on matters of the heart.
The weekly contribution of the advice specialist of fireside Chat,
entitled in the Consulting Room by Doctor Cupid, was made
up mainly of answers to correspondence. He affected the bedside

(11:38):
manner of the kind breezy old physician, and probably gave
a good deal of comfort. At any rate, he always
seemed to have plenty of cases on his hands. It
was to this expert that Maud took her trouble. She
had been a regular reader of the paper for several years,
and had indeed consulted the great Man once before, when
he had replied favorably to her query as to whither

(11:59):
it would be right for her to accept caramels from Arthur,
then almost a stranger, it was only natural that she
should go to him now in an even greater dilemma.
The letter was not easy to write, but she finished
it at last, and after an anxious interval, judgment was
delivered as follows. Well, well, well, bless my soul? What
is all this? M? B? Writes me? I am a

(12:21):
young lady. Until recently was very very happy, except that
my fiancee, though truly loving me, was of a very
jealous disposition. Though I am sure I gave him no cause,
he would scowl when I spoke to any other man,
and this used to make me unhappy. But for some
time now he is quite changed and does not seem
to mind at all. And though at first this made
me feel happy to think that he had got over

(12:42):
his jealousy, I now feel unhappy because I am beigning
to be afraid that he no longer cares for me.
Do you think this is so? And what ought I
to do? My dear young lady? I should like to
be able to reassure you, but it is kindest sometimes,
you know, to be candid, however it may hurt. It

(13:03):
has been my experience that when jealousy flies out of
the window, indifference comes in at the door. In the
old days, a knight would joust for the love of
a lady, risking physical injury, rather than permit others to
rival him in her affections. I think, m P, that
you should endeavor to discover the true state of your
fiance's feelings. I do not, of course, advocate anything in

(13:23):
the shape of unwomanly behavior, of which I am sure,
my dear young lady, you are incapable. But I think
that you should certainly try to pique your fiancee to
test him. At your next ball. For instance, refuse him
a certain number of dances on the plea that your
program is fool at garden parties, at homes and so on.
Exhibit pleasure in the society and conversation of other gentlemen,

(13:46):
and mark is demeanor as you do. So these little
tests should serve either to relieve your apprehensions, provided they
are groundless, or to show you the truth. And after all,
if it is truth, it must be faced, must it
not MP. Before the end of the day, Maude knew
the whole passage by heart. The more her mind had

(14:06):
dwelt on it, the more clearly did it seem to
express what she had felt, but could not put him
to words. The point about jousting struck her as particularly
well taken. She had looked up joust in the dictionary,
and it seemed to her that in those few words
was contained the kernel of her trouble in the old days,
if any man had attempted to rival him in her
affections outside business hours, Arthur would undoubtedly have jousted, and

(14:30):
jousted with the vigor of one who means to make
his presence felt. Now, in similar circumstances, he would probably
step aside politely as one who should say, after you,
my dear al fall. There was no time to lose.
An hour after her first perusal of Doctor Cupid's advice,
Maude had begun to act upon it. By the time
the first lull in the morning's work had come, there

(14:52):
was a chance for private conversation, and she had invented
an imaginary young man, a shadowy lothario, who, being introduced
into her home on the previous Sunday by her brother Horace,
had carried on in a way you wouldn't believe, paying
all manner of compliments, he said, I had such white hands,
said Maude. Arthur nodded, stropping a razor. The while he

(15:14):
appeared to be bearing the revelations with complete fortitude. Yet
only a few weeks before, a customer's comment on this
same whiteness had stirred him to his depths. And this morning,
what do you think why he meets me as bold
as you please and gives me a cake of toilet
soap like his impudence, she paused, hopefully, always useful soap,

(15:35):
said Arthur, politely sententious, how lovely it was, went on
more duly, conscious of failure, but stippling in like an artist,
the little touches which give atmosphere and versimilitude to a
story all scented hours. Will tease me about it, I
can tell you, she paused, surely he must. Why a

(15:55):
sea anemone would be torn with jealousy at such a tale.
Arthur did not even WinCE. He was charming about it,
thought it very kind. The young fellow didn't blame him
for being struck by the whiteness of her hands. Touched
on the history of soap, which he had happened to
have been reading up in the encyclopedia at the free library,

(16:16):
and behaved altogether in such a thoroughly gentlemanly fashion that
Maude stayed awake half the night crying. If Maude had
waited another twenty four hours, there would have been no
need for her to have taxed her power of invention.
From the following day there entered the shop and her
life a young man who was not imaginary, a lothario
of flesh and blood. He made his entry with that arrow,

(16:39):
having bought most of the neighboring property, which belongs exclusively
to minor actors, men of weight on the Stock Exchange,
and American professional pugilists. Mister Skipper Shoote belonged to the
last name to the three classes. He had arrived in
England two months previously for the purpose of holding a
conference at eight Stone, for with one Choseph Edwards to

(17:03):
settle a question of superiority at that weight, which had
been vexing the sporting public of two countries for over
a year. Having successfully out argued mister Edwards, mainly by
means of strenuous work in the clinches, he was now
on the eve of starting on a lucrative music hall
tour with his celebrated inaudible monologue. As a result of

(17:25):
these things. He was feeling very, very pleased with the
world in general, and with mister Skipper's shoot in particular.
And when mister Shute was pleased with himself, his manner
was apt to be of the breeziest. He breezed into
the shop, took a seat, and, having cast an experienced
eye at Maud and found her pleasing, extended both hands
and observed goll a limit kid. At any other time

(17:49):
Maud might have presented being addressed as kid by a customer,
but now she welcomed it. With the exception of a
slight thickening of the lobe of one ear. Mister Shute
bore no outward sign to his profession, and, being, to
use his own phrase, a swell dresser, he was really
a most presentable young man, just in fact what Maud needed.

(18:10):
She saw in him her last hope. If any faint
spark of his ancient fire still lingered in Arthur, it
was through mister Shute that it must be fanned. She smiled.
Upon mister Shute. She worked on his robust fingers as
if it were an artistic treat to be permitted to
handle them. So carefully did she toil that she was
still busy when Arthur, taking off his apron and putting

(18:32):
on his hat, went out for his twenty minutes lunch,
leaving them alone together. The door had scarcely shut when
mister Shute bent forward say he sank, his voice to
a winning whisper. You look good to me, he said
gallantly the idea, said Maud, tossing her head on the
level mister Shutter shorting, Maude laid down her orange sticks.

(18:54):
Don't be silly, she said that There I finished. I've not,
said mister Shute, not by a mile. Say well, what
do you do with your evenings? I go home? Sure,
but when you don't, it's a poor heart that never rejoices.
Don't you ever? Whoop it up? Whoop it up? The

(19:16):
mad whirl, exclaimed mister Shute. Ice cream, soda and buckwheat
cakes in a happy evening at Lovely Luna Park. I
don't know where Luna Park is. What did they teach
you at school? It's out in that direction, said mister Chute,
pointing over his shoulder. You go straight on about three
thousand miles till you went Little Old New York. Then

(19:38):
you turn to the right. Stay, don't you ever get
a little treat, Why not come along to the White
City some old evening. This evening, mister Welsh is taking
me to the White City to night. And who is
mister Welsh, the gentleman who has just gone out? Is
that so when he doesn't look a live one? But
maybe it's just because he's had bad news to day?

(19:59):
You never can well? He rose, farewell, Evelina, fairest of
your sex, we shall meet again, so keep a stout heart,
and taking up his cane, straw hat and yellow gloves,
mister Shute departed, leaving Maud to her thoughts. She was disappointed.
She had expected better results. Mister Shute had lowered with

(20:19):
ease the record for gay battendish hitherto held by the
red faced customer. Yet to all appearances, there had been
no change in Arthur's manner. But perhaps he had scowled
or bitten his lip and she had not noticed it.
Apparently he had struck mister Shute, an unbiased spectator, as gloomy,
perhaps at some point when her eyes had been on
her work. She hoped for the best, whatever his feelings

(20:43):
may have been. During the afternoon, Arthur was undeniably cheerful
that evening. He was in excellent spirits. His light heart
had abandoned on the wiggle woggle, had been noted and
commented upon by several lookers. On confronted with the hairy anus,
he had touched a high level of facetiousness. And now
as he sat with her, listening to the band, he

(21:03):
was crooning joyously to himself in accompaniment to the music.
Without it would appear a care in the world. Maude
was hurt and anxious. In a mere acquaintance, this blithe
attitude would have been welcome. It would have helped her
to enjoy her evening. But from Arthur, at that particular moment,
she looked for something else. Why was he cheerful? Only

(21:23):
a few hours ago she had been yes, flirting with
another man before his very eyes. What right had he
to be cheerful? You ought to be heated, full of
passionate demands for an explanation, a flushed, throaty thing to
be coaxed back into a good temper, and then forgiven
all this at great length, for having been in a
bad one. Yes, she told herself, she had wanted certainty,

(21:46):
one way or another, and here it was now she
knew he no longer cared for her. She trembled cold,
said Arthur, let's walk. Evening's beginning to draw in now.
Lumda diddley. Ah up, that's what I call a good too.
Give me something lively and bright, dumpy umpty idly ah

(22:07):
dump dump funny thing, said Maude deliberately. What's a funny
thing the gentleman in the brown suit whose hands I
did this afternoon? He was, agreed Arthur brightly, A very
funny thing, Maud frowned. Wit at the expense of Harry
Aines was one thing at her own another I was

(22:27):
about to say. She went on precisely that it was
a funny thing, a coincidence, seeing that I was already engaged,
that the gentleman in the brown suitors hands I did
this afternoon should have asked me to come here to
White City with him to night. For a moment, they
walked on in silence. To Maude, it seemed a hopeful silence.
Surely it must be the prelude to an outburst, Oh,

(22:49):
he said, and stopped. Maude's heart gave a leap. Surely
that was the old tone. A couple of paces, and
he spoke again. I didn't hear him ask you. His
voice was disappointingly level. He asked me after you'd gone
out to lunch. Oh, it's a nuisance, said Arthur cheerfully,
when things clashed like that. But perhaps he'll ask you again.

(23:11):
Nothing to prevent you coming here twice. Well repays a
second visit, Di always saying I think you shouldn't, said
a voice behind him. It hurts the head, well kid
being shown a good time. The possibility of meeting mister
Shute had not occurred to Maud. She had assumed that,
being aware that she would be there with another, he

(23:33):
would have stayed away. It may, however, be remarked that
she did not know mister Shute. He was not one
of your sensitive plants. He smiled pleasantly upon her, looking
very dapper in evening dress and a silk hat, though
a size too small for him, shone like a mirror.
Maude hardly knew whether she was glad or sorry to
see him. It did not seem to matter much now.

(23:55):
Either way, nothing seemed to matter much. In fact, Arthur's
cheer acceptance of the news she had received invitations from
others had been like a blow leaving her numb and listless.
She made the introductions. The two men eyed each other.
Please to meet you, said mister Shute. Weather keeps up,
said Arthur, And from that point onward mister Shute took command.

(24:19):
It is to be assumed that this was not the
first time mister Shute had made one of a trio
in these circumstances, for the swift dexterity with which he
lost Arthur was certainly not that of a novice. So
smoothly was it done that it was not until she
emerged from the witching waves, guided by the pugilist's slim
but formidable right arm, that Maude realized that Arthur had gone.

(24:42):
She gave a little cry of dismay. Secretly, she was
beginning to be somewhat afraid of mister Shute. He was
showing signs of being about to step out of the
row she had assigned to him and attempt something on
a larger scale. His manner had that extra touch of
warmth which makes all the difference. Oh, he he's gone,
she cried, Sure, said mister Shute. He's got a hurry

(25:04):
up call from the Eugee village. The chief's cousin wants
a hair cut. We must find him. We must surest thing,
you know, said mister Shute. Plenty of time, we must
find him. Mister Shute regarded her with some displeasure. Seems
to be ace high with you, that dub, he said,
I don't understand you. My observation was explained mister Shute

(25:26):
coldly that, judging from appearances, that dough faced lemon was
a Willie boy the first and only love. Maud turned
on him with flaming cheeks. Mister Welsh's nothing to me, nothing, nothing,
she cried. She walked quickly on. Well, then if there's
a vacancy, star eyes, said the pugilist at her side,
holding on a hat which showed a tendency to wobble,

(25:48):
count me in directly, I saw you see here. What's
the idea of this road work? We aren't racing? Maud
slowed down. That's better. As I was saying directly, I
saw you. I said to myself, that's the one you need.
The original candy kid that his hat lurched drunkenly. As
he answered the girl's increase of speed. He cursed it

(26:09):
in a brief aside, that's what I said, the original
candy kid. So he shot out a restraining hand. Arthur cried, Maud, Arthur,
that's not my name, breathed mister Shute, tenderly call me Clarence.
Considered as an embrace, it was imperfect. At these moments.
A silk hat assized too small handicaps her man. The

(26:32):
necessity of having to be careful about the nap prevented
mister Shute from doing himself complete justice, but he did
enough to induce Arthur Welsh, who, having sighted the missing
ones from Afar, had been approaching them at a walking
pace to substitute a run for the walk, and arrived
just as Maud wrenched herself freight. Mister Shute took off
his hat, smoothed it, replaced it with extreme care, and

(26:56):
turned his attention to the newcomer. Arthur said, Maud, her
heart gave a great leap. There was no mistaking the
meaning in the eye that met hers. He cared, He cared, Arthur.
He took no notice. His face was pale and working.
He strode up to mister Shute. Well, he said between
his teeth at eight stone four Champion of the World

(27:19):
has many unusual experiences in the life, but he rarely
encounters men who say well to him between their teeth.
Mister Shute eyed this freak with profound wonder. I'll teach
you to kiss young ladies. Mister Shute removed his hat
again and gave it another brush. This gave him the
necessary time for reflection. I don't need it, he said,

(27:42):
I've graduated. Put them up. His hissed Arthur. Almost a
shocked look spread itself over the pugilist's face. Some might
Raphael have looked, if requested to draw a pavement picture.
You aren't speaking to me, he said, incredulously. Put them up. Maude,
trembling from head to foot, was conscious of one overwhelming emotion.

(28:04):
She was terrified. Yet, but stronger than the terror was
the great wave of elation which swept over her. All
her doubts had vanished. At last, after weary weeks of uncertainty,
Arthur was about to give the supreme proof he was
going to joust for her. A couple of passers by
had paused, interested to watch developments. You could never tell,

(28:25):
of course, many an apparently promising rou never got any
farther than words, But glancing at Arthur's face, they certainly
felt justified, and pausing, mister Shute spoke if it wasn't,
He said carefully that I don't want trouble with the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to animals. I he
broke off for to the accompaniment of a shout of

(28:46):
approval from the two spectators. Arthur had swung his right fist,
and it had taken him smartly on the side of
the head compared with the blows mister Shute was wont
to receive in the exercise of his profession. Arthur was
a gentle tap, but there was one circumstance which gave
it a deadliness all its own. Achilles had his heel,

(29:08):
mister Shute's vulnerable point was at the other extremity. Instead
of countering, he uttered a cry of agony and clutched
wildly with both hands at his hat. He was too late.
It fell to the ground and bounded away with its
proprietor and passionate chase. Arthur snorted and gently chafed his knuckles.

(29:28):
There was a calm about mister Shute's demeanor. As having
given his treasure a final polish and laid it carefully down,
he began to advance on his adversary, which was more
than ominous. His lips were a thin line of steel.
The muscles stood out over his jawbones. Crouching in his
professional manner, he moved forward softly like a cat. And

(29:49):
it was at this precise moment, just as the two
spectators reinforced now by eleven other men of sporting tastes,
were congratulating themselves on their acumen, and having stopped to
watch that police Constable Robert Bryce, intruding fourteen stones of
bone and muscle between the combatants, addressed to mister Shute
these memorable words hello, hello, Hello, hello hello. Mister Shute

(30:14):
appealed to his sense of justice. The mutt knock my
hat off? Ill I do it again, said Arthur truculently.
Not while I'm here. You wouldn't, young fellow, said mister
Bryce with decision. I'm surprised at you, he went on,
pain And you look a respectable young chap too. You
pop off, A shrill voice from the crowd at this

(30:35):
point offered the Constable all cinematograph rights if he would
allow the contest to proceed. And you pop off too,
all of you, continued mister Bryce. Best if I know
what kids are comin to nowadays. And as for you,
he said, addressing mister shute, all you got to do
is keep that face of yours clothes. That's what you've
got to do. I got my eye on your mind.

(30:56):
An if I catch you a followerin of him, he
jerked his thumb over shoulder at Arthur's departing figure. I'll
pinch you, sure as you're alive, he paused. I had
done it already, he added, pensively, if it wasn't my birthday,
Arthur Welsh turned sharply. For some time, he had been
dimly aware that somebody was calling his name. Oh, Arthur.

(31:18):
She was breathing quickly. He could see the tears in
her eyes. I've been running, he walked so fast. He
stared down at her, gloomily. Go away, he said, I've
done with him. She clutched at his coat. Arthur, listen, listen.
It's it's all a mistake. I thought. I thought you
didn't care for me any more. I was miserable, and
I I wrote to the paper and asked what should

(31:39):
I do? When they said I ought to test you
and try and make you jealous, and that that would
relieve my apprehensions. And I hated it, but I did it,
and you didn't seem to care till now. And you
know that there's nobody but you. You the paper what
he stammered, Yes, yes, yes, I wrote to Fireside Chatton
and doctor Cupid, so that when jealousy flew out the window,

(32:02):
indifference came in at the door. That I must exhibit
pleasure in the society of other gentlemen, and mark your
demeanor oswell. Arthur, luckier than mister Shute, was not hampered
by a too small silk hat. It was a few
moments later, as they moved slowly towards the flip flap,
which had seemed to both of them were fitting climax
for the evening's emotions, that Arthur, fumbling in her waistcoat pocket,

(32:25):
produced a small slip of paper. What's that, Maud asked,
Read it, said Arthur, And it's from home moments an
answer to a letter I sent them, and he added
with he I'd like to have five minutes alone with
the chapel wrote it, and under the electric light, Maude
read answers to correspondence by the heart specialist Arthur w

(32:47):
Jealousy Arthur is not only the most wicked, but the
most foolish of passions. Shakespeare said, it is the green
eyed monster which doth mark the meat it feeds on.
You admit that you have frequently caused great distress to
the young lady of your affections by your exhibition of
this weakness. Exactly. There is nothing a girl dislikes or

(33:09):
despises more than jealousy. Be a man, Arthur, w fight
against it. You may find it hard at first, but persevere.
Keep a smiling face. If she seems to enjoy talking
to other men, show no resentment, be merry and bright.
Believe me, it's the only way. End of Chapter four,

(33:30):
story number four, when doctors disagree, According by Mike Harress,