I have gained in a novel fashion. It is all so simple. Unhappiness can be classified under five main heads --no more, I assure you. Once you know the cause of a malady, the remedy should not be impossible."I stand in the place of the doctor. The doctor first diagnoses the patient's disorder, then he proceeds to recommend a course of treatment. There are cases where no treatment can be of any avail. If that is so, I say frankly that I can do nothing. But I assure you, Mrs. Packington, that if I undertake a case, the cure is practically guaranteed."
Could it be so? Was this nonsense, or could it, perhaps, be true? Mrs. Packington gazed at him hopefully."Shall we diagnose your case?" said Mr. Parker Pyne, smiling. He leaned back in his chair and brought the tips of his fingers together. "The trouble concerns your husband. You have had, on the whole, a happy married life. Your husband has, I think, prospered. I think there is a young lady concerned in the case--perhaps a young lady in your husband's office."
"A typist," said Mrs. Packington. "A nasty made-up little minx, all lipstick and silk stockings and curls." The words rushed from her. Mr. Parker Pyne nodded in a-soothing manner. "There is no real harm in it--that is your husband's phrase, I have no doubt." "His very words." "Why, therefore, should he not enjoy a pure friendship with this young lady, and be able to bring a little brightness, a little pleasure, into her dull existence? Poor child, she has so little fun. Those, I imagine, are his sentiments." Mrs. Packington nodded with vigor. "Humbug--all humbug! He takes her on the river--I'm fond of going
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