Scruples of any kind always surprised Welsh. “Can’t afford to leave the practice?” he asked with a laugh. “Can’t afford to leave the practice?” “That’s—ah—partly the reason,” replied Twiddel, uncomfortably. “That’s—ah—partly the reason,” “Rot, old man! There’s a girl in the case. Out with it!” “Rot, old man! There’s a girl in the case. Out with it!” “No, it isn’t that. You see it’s the very devil of a responsibility.” “No, it isn’t that. You see it’s the very devil of a responsibility.” [pg 10] At this confession of weakness he looked guiltily at his heroic friend. From the bottom of his heart he wished he had screwed up his courage in private. Welsh had so little imagination. “By Gad,” exclaimed Welsh, “I’d manage a nunnery for £500!” “By Gad,” “I’d manage a nunnery for £500!” “I daresay you would, but a suicidal, and possibly homicidal, lunatic isn’t a nunnery.” “I daresay you would, but a suicidal, and possibly homicidal, lunatic isn’t a nunnery.” Welsh looked at his friend with diminished respect. “Then you are going to chuck up £500 and a free trip on the Continent?” he said. “Then you are going to chuck up £500 and a free trip on the Continent?” “Dr Watson himself admits the responsibility.”
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