To the others men and women were only cases, good if they were complicated, tiresome if obvious; they heard murmurs and were astonished at abnormal livers; an unexpected sound in the lungs gave them something to talk about.
But to Philip there was much more.
He found an interest in just looking at them, in the shape of their heads and their hands, in the look of their eyes and the length of their noses.
You saw in that room human nature taken by surprise, and often the mask of custom was torn off rudely, showing you the soul all raw.
Sometimes you saw an untaught stoicism which was profoundly moving.
Once Philip saw a man, rough and illiterate, told his case was hopeless; and, self-controlled himself, he wondered at the splendid instinct which forced the fellow to keep a stiff upper-lip before strangers.
But was it possible for him to be brave when he was by himself, face to face with his soul, or would he then surrender to despair?
Sometimes there was tragedy.
Once a young woman brought her sister to be examined, a girl of eighteen, with delicate features and large blue eyes, fair hair that sparkled with gold when a ray of autumn sunshine touched it for a moment, and a skin of amazing beauty.
The students' eyes went to her with little smiles.
They did not often see a pretty girl in these dingy rooms.
The elder woman gave the family history, father and mother had died of phthisis, a brother and a sister, these two were the only ones left.
The girl had been coughing lately and losing weight.
She took off her blouse and the skin of her neck was like milk.
Dr. Tyrell examined her quietly, with his usual rapid method; he told two or three of his clerks to apply their stethoscopes to a place he indicated with his finger; and then she was allowed to dress.
The sister was standing a little apart and she spoke to him in a low voice, so that the girl should not hear.
Her voice trembled with fear.
"She hasn't got it, doctor, has she?"
"I'm afraid there's no doubt about it."
"She was the last one.
When she goes I shan't have anybody."
She began to cry, while the doctor looked at her gravely; he thought she too had the type; she would not make old bones either.
The girl turned round and saw her sister's tears.
She understood what they meant.
The colour fled from her lovely face and tears fell down her cheeks.
The two stood for a minute or two, crying silently, and then the older, forgetting the indifferent crowd that watched them, went up to her, took her in her arms, and rocked her gently to and fro as if she were a baby.
When they were gone a student asked:
"How long d'you think she'll last, sir?"
Dr. Tyrell shrugged his shoulders.
"Her brother and sister died within three months of the first symptoms.
She'll do the same.
If they were rich one might do something.
You can't tell these people to go to St. Moritz.
Nothing can be done for them."
Once a man who was strong and in all the power of his manhood came because a persistent aching troubled him and his club-doctor did not seem to do him any good; and the verdict for him too was death, not the inevitable death that horrified and yet was tolerable because science was helpless before it, but the death which was inevitable because the man was a little wheel in the great machine of a complex civilisation, and had as little power of changing the circumstances as an automaton.
Complete rest was his only chance.
The physician did not ask impossibilities.
"You ought to get some very much lighter job."
"There ain't no light jobs in my business."
"Well, if you go on like this you'll kill yourself.
You're very ill."
"D'you mean to say I'm going to die?"
"I shouldn't like to say that, but you're certainly unfit for hard work."
"If I don't work who's to keep the wife and the kids?"
Dr. Tyrell shrugged his shoulders.
The dilemma had been presented to him a hundred times.
Time was pressing and there were many patients to be seen.
"Well, I'll give you some medicine and you can come back in a week and tell me how you're getting on."
The man took his letter with the useless prescription written upon it and walked out.
The doctor might say what he liked.