“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. "A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits of ammonia. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. See paragraph 1.
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