The Yellow Wallpaper By Charlotte Perkins Gilman It is very (1) _ _ _ _ _ _ that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer. A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of (2) _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ felicity—but that would be asking too much of fate! Still I will proudly declare that there is (3) _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ queer about it. Else, (4) _ _ _ should it be let so cheaply? And why have (5) _ _ _ _ _ so long untenanted? John laughs at me, (6) _ _ course, but one expects that in marriage. John (7) _ _ practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he (8) _ _ _ _ _ _ openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures. John is a physician, and perhaps—(I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead (9) _ _ _ _ _ and a great relief to my mind)—perhaps that is one reason I do not get well faster. You see, he does not (10) _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I am sick! And (11) _ _ _ _ can one do? If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there (12) _ _ really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency—what is one to do? My brother is (13) _ _ _ _ a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same thing. So I take phosphates or phosphites—whichever it is, (14) _ _ _ tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to “work” until I am well again.