“Thank goodness! Wilson’s coming to-day,” was the first thought of Michael Prendergast, M.D., F.R.C.S., and “rising consultant” of Harley Street, as he woke on a glorious July morning in his bed at the Old Malting House, Steeple Tollesbury. Michael Prendergast was not unlike many other people in that, while he remained in London and perforce went through a certain round of daily toil and daily pleasure, he complained bitterly of the continual presence of people and yearned for green fields and solitude; but as soon as he found himself actually solitary in a green field, he tired at once of his own company and began to pine for the society of a friend. It was the first of these moods that ha…
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