"Renee," said Gertrude as they reached the square, "do you remember what Uncle Robert said?" "Yes. He could not help us--we must help ourselves." "Then"--There was a pause. "Yes, dear, what?" "I'm sure mamma is planning for me to marry Lord Henry Moorpark." "I'm afraid so." "And I'm sure, Ren dear, he's a dear, amiable, nice old man; but if he proposes I never will say `Yes'." There was another pause, and then Renee smiled, passed her arm round her handsome sister's neck, and kissed her lovingly. "Have you got John Huish very bad?" she whispered. Gertrude's cheeks were crimson, and the colour flushed into her neck as she flung her arms round her sister and hid her face on her breast. Volume 1, Chapter V. DR STONOR'S PATIENT. "The doctor at home?" This to a quiet, sedate-looking man in livery, who opened the door of one of the serious-looking houses in Finsbury Circus, where, upon a very shiny brass plate, were in Roman letters the words "Dr Stonor." There was not much in those few black letters, but many a visitor had gone up the carefully-whitened steps, gazed at them, stepped down again with a curious palpitation of the heart, and walked right round the Circus two or three times to gain composure enough before once more ascending the steps and knocking at the door. There had been cases--not a few--where visitors had spent weeks in making up their minds to go to Dr Stonor, and had reached his doorstep only to hurry back home quite unable to face him, and then suffer in secret perhaps for months to come. For what would that interview reveal? That the peculiar sensations or pains were due to some trifling disorganisation that a guinea and a prescription would set right, or that the seeds of some fatal disease had begun to shoot? Daniel, factotum to Dr Stonor, had been standing like a spider watching at the slip of a window beside the door waiting for sick flies to come into the doctor's net. "Old game!" said Daniel to himself, as he drew back from the window to observe unseen, and without moving a muscle in his face. For it was Daniel's peculiarity that he never did move the muscles of his face. He would hold a patient for his master during a painful operation, be scolded, badgered, see harrowing scenes, receive vails, hear praise or abuse of the doctor--for these are both applied to medicine men--and all without making a sign, losing his nerve, or being elated. Daniel was always the same--clean, quiet, self-possessed; and he had seen handsome fair-bearded John Huish descend from a cab, walk up to the door, pass by and go slowly and thoughtfully on, passing his hand over his thick golden beard, looking very tall, manly, and unpatientlike, as he passed on round the Circus.