The Dope Fiends
"I have a terrible headache," remarked Constance Dunlap to her friend, Adele
Gordon, the petite cabaret singer and dancer of the Mayfair, who had
dropped in to see her one afternoon.
"You poor, dear creature," soothed Adele. "Why don't you go to see Dr.
Price? He has cured me. He's splendid--splendid."
Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland Price was a well-known physician. All day
and even at night, she knew, automobiles and cabs rolled up to his door and
their occupants were, for the most part, stylishly gowned women.
"Oh, come on," urged Adele. "He doesn't charge as highly as people seem to
think. Besides, I'll go with you and introduce you, and he'll charge only as he
does the rest of us in the profession."
Constance's head throbbed frantically. She felt that she must have some
relief soon. "All right," she agreed, "I'll go with you, and thank you, Adele."
Dr. Price's office was on the first floor of the fashionable Recherche
Apartments, and, as she expected, Constance noted a line of motor cars
They entered and were admitted to a richly furnished room, in mahogany and
expensive Persian rugs, where a number of patients waited. One after
another an attendant summoned them noiselessly and politely to see the
doctor, until at last the turn of Constance and Adele came.
Dr. Price was a youngish, middle-aged man, tall, with a sallow countenance
and a self-confident, polished manner which went a long way in reassuring
the patients, most of whom were ladies.
As they entered the doctor's sanctum behind the folding doors, Adele seemed
to be on very good terms indeed with him.
They seated themselves in the deep leather chairs beside Dr. Price's desk,
and he inclined his head to listen to the story of their ailments.
"Doctor," began Constance's introducer, "I've brought my friend, Mrs. Dunlap,
who is suffering from one of those awful headaches. I thought perhaps you
could give her some of that medicine that has done me so much good."
The doctor bowed without saying anything and shifted his eyes from Adele to
Constance. "Just what seems to be the difficulty?" he inquired.
Constance told him how she felt, of her general lassitude and the big,
throbbing veins in her temples.
"Ah--a woman's headaches!" he smiled, adding, "Nothing serious, however, in
this case, as far as I can see. We can fix this one all right, I think."
He wrote out a prescription quickly and handed it to Constance.
"Of course," he added, as he pocketed his fee, "it makes no difference to me
personally, but I would advise that you have it filled at Muller's--Miss Gordon