Montgomery, that you should have put me into the
painful position of having to refuse you." He turned upon his heel, and
walked with offended dignity out of the surgery.
The student smiled bitterly, and turned to his work of making up the
morning prescriptions. It was poor and unworthy work--work which any
weakling might have done as well, and this was a man of exceptional
nerve and sinew. But, such as it was, it brought him his board and One
pound a week--enough to help him during the summer months and let him
save a few pounds towards his winter keep. But those class fees!
Where were they to come from? He could not save them out of his scanty
wage. Dr. Oldacre would not advance them. He saw no way of earning
them. His brains were fairly good, but brains of that quality were a
drug in the market. He only excelled in his strength, and where was he
to find a customer for that? But the ways of Fate are strange, and his
customer was at hand.
"Look y'ere!" said a voice at the door. Montgomery looked up, for the
voice was a loud and rasping one. A young man stood at the entrance--
a stocky, bull-necked young miner, in tweed Sunday clothes and an
aggressive neck-tie. He was a sinister-looking figure, with dark,
insolent eyes, and the jaw and throat of a bulldog.
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