If that
coon's health holds out, we'll have all the money there is in the
mint."
That was Felix's real anxiety--"If his health holds out." Gideon's
health was watched over as if he had been an ailing prince. His
bubbling vivacity was the foundation upon which his charm and his
success were built. Stuhk became a sort of vicarious neurotic,
eternally searching for symptoms in his protege; Gideon's tongue,
Gideon's liver, Gideon's heart were matters to him of an unfailing
and anxious interest. And of late--of course it might be imagination
--Gideon had shown a little physical falling off. He ate a bit less,
he had begun to move in a restless way, and, worst of all, he laughed
less frequently.
As a matter of fact, there was ground for Stuhk's apprehension. It was
not all a matter of managerial imagination: Gideon was less himself.
Physically there was nothing the matter with him; he could have passed
his rigid insurance scrutiny as easily as he had done months before,
when his life and health had been insured for a sum that made good
copy for his press-agent. He was sound in every organ, but there was
something lacking in general tone.
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