‘I dare say you might; but every breath you draw there is tainted more or less with sewer gas. That furred tongue of yours looks rather like blood-poisoning. You must make yourself up a comfortable bed on the first floor, and keep a nice little bit of fire in your room day and night.’ ‘Not in _her_ room, Mr. Gerard,’ exclaimed Mrs. Evitt, with a shudder. ‘I couldn’t do it, sir. It isn’t like as if I was a stranger. Strangers wouldn’t feel it. But I knew her. I should see her beautiful eyes glaring at me all night long. It would be the death of me.’ ‘Well, then, there’s Desrolles’ room. You can’t have any objection to that.’ Mrs. Evitt shuddered again. ‘I’m that nervous,’ she said, ‘that my mind’s set against those upstairs rooms.’ ‘You’ll never get well downstairs. If you don’t fancy that first-floor bedroom you can make yourself up a bed in the sitting-room. There’s plenty of light and air there.’ ‘I might do that,’ said Mrs. Evitt, ‘though it goes against me to ’ack my beautiful drawing-room----’ ‘You won’t hurt your drawing-room. You have to recover your health.’ ‘’Ealth is a blessed privilege. Well, I’ll put up a truckle bed in the first-floor front. The girl could sleep on a mattress on the floor at the bottom of my bed. She’d be company.’ ‘Of course she would. Make yourself comfortable mentally and bodily, and you’ll soon get well. Now, how about this girl? You must get her immediately.’ ‘I’ve got a neighbour coming in presently. I’ll get her to step round and tell Jemima to come.’ ‘Is Jemima the girl?’ ‘Yes. She’s step-daughter to the tailor at the corner of Cricket’s Row. He’s got a fine family of his own, and Jemima feels herself one too many. She’s a hard-working, honest-minded girl, though she isn’t much to look at. Her father was in the public line; he was barman at the Prince of Wales, and the stepfather throws it at her sometimes when he’s in drink.’ ‘Never mind Jemima’s biography,’ said Gerard. ‘Get your neighbour to fetch her, and in the meantime I’ll help you to make up the bed.’ ‘Lor’, Mr. Gerard, you haven’t had your tea. Your chop will be stone cold.’ ‘My chop must wait,’ said Gerard cheerily. And then, with all the handiness of a woman, and more than the kindness of an ordinary woman, the young surgeon helped to transform the first-floor sitting-room into a comfortable bedchamber.