It was not yet ten o&rsquo;clock, but Miss Martine Studley, proprietor of Edgewood, came into the lounge and tactfully discouraged her four patients from beginning another rubber of bridge. August 26th, 1946, had been a close, warm day for the time of year, and it was a stuffy night. The patients looked bored with the game, all but old Mrs. Norbury; and if old Mrs. Norbury wasn&rsquo;t dog-tired, thought Miss Studley, she ought to be.<br />Miss Studley never described her guests as &ldquo;patients,&rdquo; nor would she allow Edgewood to be referred to as a sanatorium or even a rest cure. It was simply a place where persons (very well-off persons) who had been sick or were overworked or merely needed a little country air could go and be sure of what attention they required. If they were really ill, or disabled, Miss Studley wouldn&rsquo;t take them. They were all sent to Edgewood by expensive doctors who were well aware that Miss Studley had filled a need.