Sometimes Sheilah wished that Dr. Evarts had found something organic the trouble with her after all. Then there would be something tangible to fight. To be told by him lightly, over and over again, that there was no reason for her sensations—that she was 'perfectly sound physically' (she thought she would scream the next time he said that) filled her with shame and self-contempt. She had always scorned women who imagined themselves sick. Dr. Evarts always left her in deep despair.
He would have been surprised. He supposed assurances cheered her up. He did not make light of her condition when talking to Felix, but he was of the school which believes it is folly to take a patient into one's confidence. It was better to get Sheilah's mind off herself. Talk about something else, anything else, an anecdote, a funny story would do. Make her laugh! Dr. Evarts was under the impression that all patients like a cheerful doctor. He was always in the pink of condition himself—never tired, never depressed—a big blond man, as sunny in appearance as in manner. One of his patients had told Sheilah once that Dr. Evarts was like a shaft
