夜雨聆风It was, I think, on the following morning before lunch that a conversationtook place which left me vaguely disquieted.
There were four of us – Judith, myself, Boyd Carrington and Norton.
Exactly how the subject started, I am not sure, but we were talking ofeuthanasia – the case for and against it.
Boyd Carrington, as was natural, did most of the talking, Norton puttingin a word or two here and there and Judith sitting silent but closely attent-ive.
I myself had confessed that though there seemed, on the face of it, everyreason to support the practice, yet in actuality I felt a sentimental shrink-ing from it. Besides, I said, I thought it would put too much power in thehands of relatives.
Norton agreed with me. He added that he thought it should only be doneby the wish and consent of the patient himself where death after pro-longed suffering was certain.
Boyd Carrington said: ‘Ah, but that’s the curious thing. Does the personmost concerned ever wish to “put himself out of his misery”, as we say?’
