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Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith), 1866-1959

"Mrs. Red Pepper"

That woman would have let her unlucky
husband smother to death in that oven before it would have occurred to
her to move him out of it."
"I rather wonder at your continuing to practise in a village like this,
with that sort of people, when you have so much city work, and could do a
large business with a city office."
Burns stretched out an arm, thrusting his hand deep into the long grass.
"That sort--narrow-minded people--aren't all found in the country,
though--not by a long shot. I've sometimes thought I'd take an office in
town, but, when it comes to making the move, I can't bring myself to it.
You see, I happen to like it out here, and I like the village work. This
way I get both sorts. I don't know why one's ambition should be all for
city work. The people out here need me just as much as those where the
streets are paved. There's a heap more fresh air and sunshine and liberty
here than in town. And, as for being busy, there are only twenty-four
hours in the day, anywhere."
"And you fill the most of those full. So you do. Yet, I should think
your love for surgery would lead you to take up an exclusive surgical
practice. You could make a name. You have a good-sized reputation
already, with your ability you could make it a great one."
Burns looked at Leaver. The two men regarded each other with a sudden
fresh interest, a sudden wonder as to the operation of each other's
minds.


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