it is possible that Dick can be restored to himself; there my responsibility ends. It will be for her to decide what she will do.”
“I don’t think you’ve any right to put such a responsibility on her. She has enough to bear. She is poor—how could she afford such an operation?”
“That is for her to decide,” persisted Gilbert stubbornly.
“You say you think that Dick can be cured. But are you sure of it?”
“Certainly not. Nobody could be sure of such a thing. There may have been lesions of the brain itself, the effect of which can never be removed. But if, as I believe, his loss of memory and other faculties is due merely to the pressure on the brain centers of certain depressed areas of bone, then he can be cured.”
“But it’s only a possibility!” insisted Anne. “Now, suppose you tell Leslie and she decides to have the operation. It will cost a great deal. She will have to borrow the money, or sell her little property. And suppose the operation is a failure and Dick remains the same.
How will she be able to pay back the money she borrows, or make a living for herself and that big helpless creature if she sells the farm?”
“Oh, I know—I know. But it is my duty to tell her. I can’t get away from that conviction.”
“Oh, I know the Blythe stubbornness,” groaned Anne. “But don’t do this solely on your own responsibility. Consult Doctor Dave.”
