For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. She saw how overworked he was. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. I’m a little tired.
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