I took my letter from the rack and read it while waiting for Mrs. Dodds, my landlady, to finish totting up a long row of figures. I liked going down to pay my weekly board. Mrs. Dodds’ office was cosy, she was kindly. She knew London like a…
Mrs. Radcliffe’s surgeon-cousin advised a surgical support in my shoe. “I will take her to my own shoe-man in Regent Street,” said Mrs. Radcliffe and off we went. My foot was very sore, very painful to the touch, for a long time after the operation.
The doctor found my foot had a dislocated toe, a split bone—results of an old injury. His treatment made no improvement. “We will have to amputate that toe,” he said. “I do not care to do it, though, without the consent of your home people; your general…
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