I told Dr. Wigram that now
you're studying to be a doctor he ought to make a reduction in his
charges. It's dreadful the bills I've had to pay. He came every day for
two months, and he charges five shillings a visit. It's a lot of money,
isn't it? He comes twice a week still. I'm going to tell him he needn't
come any more. I'll send for him if I want him."
He looked at Philip eagerly while he read the prescriptions. They were
narcotics. There were two of them, and one was a medicine which the Vicar
explained he was to use only if his neuritis grew unendurable.
"I'm very careful," he said. "I don't want to get into the opium habit."
He did not mention his nephew's affairs. Philip fancied that it was by way
of precaution, in case he asked for money, that his uncle kept dwelling on
the financial calls upon him. He had spent so much on the doctor and so
much more on the chemist, while he was ill they had had to have a fire
every day in his bed-room, and now on Sunday he needed a carriage to go to
church in the evening as well as in the morning. Philip felt angrily
inclined to say he need not be afraid, he was not going to borrow from
him, but he held his tongue. It seemed to him that everything had left the
old man now but two things, pleasure in his food and a grasping desire for
money. It was a hideous old age.
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