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CHAPTER 1
I'-,
When at last I was taken out of the plaster, and the doctors had pulled me about to their hearts' content, and nurses had wheedled me into cautiously using my limbs, and I had been nauseated by their practically using baby talk to me, Marcus Kent told me I was to go and live in the country.
'Good air, quiet life, nothing to do - that's the prescription for you. That sister of yours will look after you. Eat, sleep and imitate the vegetable kingdom as far as possible.'
I didn't ask him if I'd ever be able to fly again. There are questions that you don't ask because you're afraid of the answers to them. In the same way during the last five months I'd never asked if I was going to be condemned to lie on my back all my life. I was afraid of a bright hypocritical reassurance from Sister. 'Come now, what a question to ask! We don't let our patients go talking in that way!'
So I hadn't asked - and it had been all right. I wasn't to be a helpless cripple. I could move my legs, stand on them, finally walk a few steps - and if I did feel rather like an adventurous baby learning to toddle, with wobbly knees and cotton wool soles to my feet - well, that was only weakness and disuse and would pass.
Marcus Kent, who is the right kind of doctor, answered what I hadn't said.