"Yes, nearly always." "Is she--is she well?" "No. She is ill. Heartsick and broken; and if what you say is true, she will soon have poor Gerty to keep her company." Dick Millet hurried away from his brother-in-law's house, pondering upon his own love matters, and telling himself that he had more to think of than he could bear. In happy ignorance of her ladyship's prostrate state, John Huish, soon after his brother-in-law's departure, hurried off to pay a hasty visit to his club, where he asked to see the secretary, and was informed that that gentleman was out. He threw himself into a cab, looking rather white and set of countenance as he had himself driven to Finsbury Square, where Daniel looked at him curiously as he ushered him into the doctor's room. "My dear, dear boy, I am glad!" cried the doctor, dashing down his glasses. "You did the old lady, after all, and carried the little darling off. Bless her heart! Why, the gipsy! Oh, won't I talk to her about this. That's the best thing I've known for years. What does your father say?" "He wrote me word that he was very glad, and said he should write to Gertrude's uncle." "Ah, yes. H'm!" said the doctor. "Best thing, too. They were once very great friends, John." "Yes, I have heard so," said Huish. "I think Captain Millet loved my mother." "H'm, yes," said the doctor, nodding. "They quarrelled. Well, but this is a surprise! You dog, you! But the secrecy of the whole thing! How snug you kept it! But, I say, you ought to have written to us all." "Well, certainly, I might have written to you, doctor, but I confess I forgot." "I say, though, you should have written to the old man." "We did, letter after letter." "Then that old--there, I won't say what, must have suppressed them. She was mad because her favourite lost. It would have been murder to have tied her up to that wreck. I say, though, my boy," continued the doctor seriously, "I don't think you ought to have carried on so with Frank Morrison. He has had D.T. terribly." "What had that to do with me?" said Huish. "If a man will drink, he must take the consequences." "Exactly," said the doctor coldly; "but his friends need not egg him on so as to win his money." "He should not choose scoundrels for his companions," said Huish coldly. "H'm, no, of course not," said the doctor, coughing, and hurrying to change the conversation. "By the way, why didn't you tell me all this when you came last?" "How could I?" said Huish, smiling. "I was not a prophet." "Prophet, no! but why keep it secret then?" "Secret? Well," said Huish; "but really--I was not justified in telling it then." "What I not when you had been married?" "I don't understand you," said Huish, with his countenance changing. "I mean," said the doctor, "why didn't you tell me when you were here a fortnight ago; and--let me see," he continued, referring to his note-book, "you were due here last Wednesday, and again yesterday."