Little by little, though, her mind worked round to what was, after all,
the chief consideration: Richard's action and its probable consequences.
And here once more she was divided against herself. For a moment she had
hoped her husband would own the chance of him being in error. But she
soon saw that this would never do. A mistake on his part would be a blow
to his reputation. Besides making enemies of people like the Henrys for
nothing. If he had to lose them as patients, it might as well be for a
good solid reason, she told herself with a dash of his own asperity. No,
it was a case of either husband or friend. And though she pitied Agnes
from the bottom of her heart, yet there were literally no lengths she
would have shrunk from going to, to spare Richard pain or even anxiety.
And this led her on to wonder whether, granted things were as he said,
he had approached Mr. Henry in the most discreet way. Could he not have
avoided a complete break? She sat and pondered this question till her
head ached, finding herself up against the irreconcilability of the
practical with the ideal which complicates a man's working life. What
she belatedly tried to think out for her husband was some little
common-sense stratagem by means of which he could have salved his
conscience, without giving offence. He might have said that the drugs he
was prescribing would be nullified by the use of wine or spirits; even
better, have warned Agnes in private.
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