Doctor Galen did not answer for some minutes. "Well," he said at last, "assuming that you have given all the symptoms correctly--but you can't have given them all. I have no means of knowing whether there is any tendency to hardening of the walls of the arteries. How old is she?" he asked suddenly. Fox was startled. "I'm sure I don't know," he answered. "Say that she is thirty-odd--not over thirty-five." "That is not likely, then," the doctor resumed, "although it is possible. I should have to see her to be sure of my ground. But, assuming that there are no complications,--_no_ complications,--there is probably a very slight lesion in the brain. Or, it may be that the walls of the arteries in this neighborhood"--the doctor tapped his head--"are very thin and there is a gradual seepage of blood through them. To tell the truth, Mr. Sanderson, we can't know very exactly what is happening until skulls are made of plate glass. But the remedy is the same, in this case, whatever is happening, exactly." "What is the treatment?" "Oh," said Doctor Galen, apparently in surprise, "there is no treatment. In the hypothetical case which we have assumed, I should prescribe rest--absolute rest, physical and mental. We must give those arteries a chance, you know; a chance to build up and grow strong again. There is the clot to be absorbed, too. It is likely to be very slight. It may be completely absorbed in a short time. Given time enough, I should expect a complete recovery." "How much time?" Fox asked. "That depends upon how far she has progressed and upon how complete a mental rest she can get. It might be any time, from a few weeks to a few years." Fox hesitated a little. "Then, I suppose, any--er--anxiety might interfere?" "Any mental disturbance," Doctor Galen replied decidedly, "would most certainly retard her recovery. It might even prevent it altogether. Why, she ought not to think. I hope she has not got so far that she is unable to think?" "No, not yet," Fox sighed and rose. "It's not so simple as you might suppose. But I'm grateful to you, Doctor. I'll see what can be done and I may call upon you again." He put his hand to his pocket. "Shall I pay you now?" Doctor Galen smiled as he checked Fox's motion. "Hadn't you better wait until you get my bill? Yes, wait if you please." That smile of Doctor Galen's seemed to envelop Fox in an atmosphere of kindliness. "You'll send one, Doctor?" he asked doubtfully. "How do you suppose, sir," said the doctor, smiling more than ever,--he seemed really amused, that doctor,--"how do you suppose, sir, that I should pay my grocer, otherwise? You have put yourself into the clutches of a specialist, Mr. Sanderson. We are terrible fellows. You are lucky to escape with your life." "Well," Fox replied, laughing, "I thank you again, Doctor, at any rate; and for letting me escape with my life." The doctor let him out by a door that did not open into the outer office.