ery possibly, are total strangers to
you, and yet never know a thing about it yourself.

It has rather the air of trespass--nay, more than that, it bears some
of the aspects of unlawful entry--but I suppose it is legal. Certainly,
judging by what I am able to learn, the system is being carried on
generally. So it must be ethical. Anything doctors do in a mass is
ethical. Almost anything they do singly and on individual responsibility
is unethical. Being ethical among doctors is practically the same thing
as being a Democrat in Texas or a Presbyterian in Scotland.

"Y will never do for you," said Doctor X, when I had rallied somewhat
from the shock of these disclosures. "I would suggest that you go to
Doctor Z, at such-and-such an address. You are exactly in Z's line. I'll
let him know that you are coming and when, and I'll send him down my
diagnosis."

So that same afternoon, the appointment having been made by telephone,
I went, full of quavery emotions, to Doctor Z's place. As soon as I was
inside his outer hallway, I realized that I was nearing the presence of
one highly distinguished in his profession.

A pussy-footed male attendant, in a livery that made him look like a
cross between a headwaiter and an undertaker's assistant, escorted me
through an anteroom into a reception-room, where a considerable number
of well-dressed men and women were sitting about in strained attitudes,
pretending to read magazines while they waited their turns, but in
reality furtively watching one another.

I sat down in a convenient chair, adhering fast to my hat and my
umbrella. They were the only friends I had there and I was determined
not to lose them without a struggle. On the wall were many colored
charts showing various portions of the human anatomy and what ailed
them. Directly in front of me was a very thrilling illustration,
evidently copied from an oil painting, of a liver in a bad state of
repair. I said to myself that if I had a liver like that one I should
keep it hidden from the public eye--I would never permit it 