Chapter 3 third chapter

John Crystal was sitting in his consulting room, seeing the penultimate patient of the morning.His eyes were full of sympathy and encouragement, and he kept watching her when she described—explained—to the details.From time to time, he nodded understandingly.He asked questions and gave instructions, and a gentle warmth pervaded the patient.Dr. Crystal is truly amazing!He was so dedicated - so genuinely caring.Even just talking to him makes one feel a lot stronger. John Crystal took out a piece of paper, put it in front of him, and began to write on it.Better give her a laxative, he thought.That new American-made franchise drug—wrapped in beautiful cellophane, in an attractive and unusual shade of orange-pink, very expensive and hard to come by—not every pharmacist Available stock.She will probably have to patronize the little shop on Ward Street.The medicine would do something—perhaps it would cheer her up for a month or two, and then he would have to think of something else.There is nothing he can do for her.With such a weak constitution, no medicine will help!No medicine can make a man's appetite better.Unlike old mama Crabtree...

A dull morning.Substantial income - nothing more.God, he's tired!Tired of sickly women and their ailments.Emulsions, painkillers—nothing else.Sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it.But then he always thought of St. Christopher's Hospital, the long row of beds in the Margaret Roosevelt ward, and Mrs. Crabtree smiling at him from her toothless mouth. He and she understand each other!She was a fighter, not like the limp, sluggish woman in her next bed.She wanted to live -- only God knows why, in a ghetto with an alcoholic husband and brood of overbearing children, and she was forced to go out to work day in and day out, scrubbing endless floors in an endless office.Always hard endless drudgery with hardly any fun!But she wanted to live—she loved life—as he, John Crystal, loved life!What they love is not the living environment, but life itself—the joy of living.It was strange—something no one could explain.He thought to himself that he must discuss this with Henrietta.

He stood up and walked the sick man to the door.He held her hand tightly and encouraged her warmly and kindly.There is also concern and sympathy in the tone.She left almost excited, seemingly fully recovered, and Dr. Crystal cared so much for her! After seeing off the patient, John Crystal immediately forgot about her, and even when she was here, he was barely aware of her presence.He was just doing his job, everything was mechanical.However, he still gave energy.He had the automatic response of a healer, feeling drained from drained energy. "God," he thought again, "I'm tired."

There was only one patient left, and a long stretch of the weekend followed.Just thinking about it made his head jump up.The golden russet leaves, the soft damp smell of autumn--the way through the woods--the wood is lit, Lucy, that unique happy creature--with queer, elusive thoughts brain.He thought Henry and Lucy the best hosts and matrons in England.Besides, Holland was the most delightful place he had ever known.This Sunday he would walk with Henrietta in the woods—up to the top of the hill and along the ridge.Walk with Henrietta and he will forget that there are sick people in this world.Thank goodness, he thought, that Henrietta never got sick.

Then the thought suddenly turned into a humorous one: "She never told me she was sick!" There was one patient, however, who, inexplicably, procrastinated.He is too late.Upstairs in the dining room, lunch must have been ready.Gerda and the children must be waiting, he must hurry. Yet he sat there motionless.He was tired - very, very tired. This feeling of boredom has been growing lately.It all stemmed from a growing rage he knew so well but couldn't contain.Poor Gerda, he thought, she put up with him a lot.If only she hadn't been so submissive--so willing to admit she was wrong (and half the time, he was to blame)!For so many days, everything Gerda said or did irritated him, chiefly, he thought ruefully, it was her virtue that irritated her.It was her patience, her unselfishness, her yielding to his will, that made him ill.She never complained about his outbursts, never asserted her point of view to please him, never tried to adopt a new way of behaving.

(Well, he thought, that's why you married her, isn't it? What are you complaining about? After that summer in San Miguel...) You will find it strange that the quality of Gerda that irritated him was exactly what he was so eager to discover in Henrietta.What irritated him about Henrietta (no, that was the wrong word--she irritated him, not irritated)--what irritated him was that Henrietta had an opinion about him that An honesty that never changes.In fact, they see the world so differently.He once said to her: "I think you're the greatest liar I've ever known." "Maybe so."

"You're always willing to say anything to people as long as it pleases them." "Keeping people happy seems to be more important to me." "Is it more important than telling the truth?" "Much more important." "Then in the name of God why can't you tell me a little lie?" "Do you want me to?" "yes." "Sorry, John, I can't." "You must always know very well what I want you to say." Well, now he had to stop thinking about Henrietta.He will see her this afternoon.The thing to do now is to keep working!Ring the bell and see the last damn woman.Another sickly creature!1 in 10 is a real glitch, and 9 out of 10 is an illusion!So what's so bad about it if she's willing to pay for it?These guys happen to be working with Crabtree to balance the world.

But he still sat there motionless. He is tired.It seems like he's been in this state for a long time.Something he wanted - very much. A thought flashed through his mind: "I want to go home." This shocked him.Where did this idea come from?what does it meanHome?He never had a home.His parents live in India.This is how he was brought up: from his aunt to his uncle, taking turns at different relatives' homes every holiday.The first permanent home he had, he thought, was this house in Harley Street. Does he see this house as home?He shook his head. But the doctor's curiosity was alive.What was the meaning of the phrase that had suddenly flashed into his head?

"I want to go home." There must be something—some symbol. He half-closed his eyes—must be some sort of background. He recalled the past very clearly. He saw the deep blue water of the Mediterranean Sea, palm trees, cacti and overlord trees; That cool feeling.San Miguel! He was surprised--a little troubled.He hadn't thought of San Miguel for many years.Of course he didn't want to go back, all that belonged to a page in his life that had already been turned. That was twelve-fourteen-fifteen years ago.He did it exactly right!His judgment was absolutely correct then!He and Veronica are total egotists, and she admits it outright!Veronica had grabbed most of what she wanted, but she couldn't get John!He escaped.He thought, in the conventional sense, that he had abandoned her!But the truth is he wants to live life on his own terms, and that's exactly what Veronica won't allow.She wanted to live her life, and included John as an accessory in her orbit.

When he refused to go to Hollywood with her.She was shocked. She said in a haughty manner: "If you really want to be a doctor, I think you could get a degree there, but it's completely unnecessary. You have enough money to live on, and I'm going to make tons of money." His reaction was violent: "But I love what I do. I'm going to work with Radley." His voice—a youthful, passionate voice—blew through. Veronica scoffed at this. "That ridiculously arrogant old man?" "That ridiculously haughty old man," said John angrily, "has done the most valuable work on Pratt's disease—"

She interrupted him: "Who cares about Pratt's disease? California has a nice climate. And it's fun to see the world." She added: "I can't stand it without you. I Want you, John—I need you." Then he makes a proposal, to Veronica's dismay, that she reject Hollywood's invitation to marry him and settle in London. She felt ridiculous, but her attitude was very firm.She's going to Hollywood, and she loves John, and John has to marry her, and then the two go together.She has no doubts about her beauty and charm. He found there was only one thing he could do, and he did it.He wrote to her and broke off the engagement. He had suffered, but he had no doubts about the wisdom of what he had done.He returned to London and began working with Radley.A year later he married Gerda, a woman who in no way resembled Veronica... The door opened and his secretary, Beryl Collins, walked in. "You still have to see Mrs. Forrester." He said curtly, "I know." "I thought you might have forgotten." She crossed the house and went out by a far door.Crystal's eyes followed hers.A plain looking girl, Beryl, is very capable.He has employed her for six years.She never made a mistake, she never, worried or rushed.She has black hair, earthy skin, and a determined jaw.Through thick lenses, her clear gray eyes watched him, and the rest of the world, with cool demeanor. He'd wanted a plain-looking secretary who wouldn't do anything stupid, and he got it.But sometimes, John Crystal is distressed.By the laws of all plays and novels, Beryl should be hopelessly in love with her employer.But he had always understood that he had no influence over Beryl.No deep love, no self-restraint—Berrill saw him as someone who could make mistakes.She has never been affected by his personality, not captured by his charm.He sometimes even wonders if she likes him. He once heard her say to a friend on the phone: "No," she said, "I don't really think he's more selfish than he makes himself out to be. Maybe more inconsiderate and inconsiderate." He knew she was talking about him.He agonized over it for the next twenty-four hours. While Gerda's unprincipled devotion annoyed him, so did Beryl's icy assessment.In fact, he thought, almost everything annoys me... There must be something wrong.Overworked?maybe.No, that's just an excuse.There must be some deep meaning to this growing impatience, this irritable boredom.He thought, "I can't do this; I can't go on like this anymore. What's wrong with me? If I can get away..." There it was again—that ethereal thought came up again, joined with the articulate thought of flight. i want to go home... Damn it, 404 Harley Street was his home! Mrs. Forrester was sitting in the waiting room waiting.A boring woman with too much money and too much free time to think about his little problems. Someone once said to him: "You must be tired of those rich people who fantasize that they are sick all the time. It is so pleasant to be with those poor people. They only come when they are really sick!" I smiled.Funny how people are convinced that poor people always have a capital P on their backs.They must have seen the elderly Mrs. Pearstock, who went to five different clinics every week, taking away bottles of medicine.Lotions are for back rubs, cough syrups are for coughs, laxatives, digestive mixes. "I've been taking this brown medicine for fourteen years, Doctor, and it's the only one that works for me, and the young doctor gave me a white medicine last week. It doesn't work at all! It's Makes sense, doesn't it, doctor? I mean, I've been taking brown pills for fourteen years, and if I don't use this liquid paraffin and brown pills..." He could still hear the whining voice now - great build, voice like a brass bell - even if she took all the medicine, it couldn't really do her any harm! They were the same, sisters in essence, Mrs Pilstock of Tottenhamshire and Mrs Forrester of Park Lane House.You listen, scribbling a pen across a thick, expensive note. God, he's tired of all this... The blue water, the faint smile of the mimosa, the hot dust... That was fifteen years ago.That's all over, over—yes, over, thank God.He was able to have the courage to end it all. courage?I don't know where an elf is talking.Is that what you call this stuff? Oh, he did a sensible thing, didn't he?That was a turning point.Damn it, that thing had tortured him like hell!But he broke free from it, fled his ordeal, returned home, and married Gerda. He found an ordinary secretary and married an ordinary wife.That's what he wants, isn't it?He had enough beauty, didn't he?He had seen how certain people, like Veronica, used their beauty -- saw the effect of their charm on every man he met.After experiencing Veronica, he wanted to find a sense of security.Safety, peace, love, and the quiet, enduring things in life.What he wanted was actually Gerda!He had wanted a woman who would take his advice on life from him, a woman who would accept his decisions, a woman who wouldn't even have a mind of her own for a moment... Who ever said that the real tragedy of life is that you get what you want? He rang the buzzer on the table angrily. He will see Mrs. Forrester. It took him a quarter of an hour to dismiss Mrs. Forrester.Once again it was easy money, and again he listened, asked questions, reassured patients, showed his sympathy, and injected some healing energy that he personally brought.Once again an expensive franchise drug was prescribed. The nervous, sickly woman who had shuffled in now walked away with firm steps, the color back in her cheeks, and the feeling that life might finally be worth it. John Crystal reclined in his chair again.He was free now—free to go upstairs, to be with Gerda and the children—free to spend weekends away from sickness and pain. But he still had that strange reluctance to leave, that strange new mental fatigue. He was tired--tired--tired.