He did not reply; he stumbled upon the chairs in following her a pace or two, with a face of acute distress. Then he broke out with “I can’t come! I can’t consult with you!” She turned and looked at him with astonishment, which he did his best to meet. Her astonishment congealed into _hauteur_, and then dissolved into the helplessness of a lady who has been offered a rudeness; but still she did not speak. She merely looked at him, while he halted and stammered on. “Personally, I—I—should be—obliged—I should feel honored—I—I—It has nothing to do with your—your—being a—a—a—woman—lady. I should not care for that. No. But surely you must know the reasons—the obstacles—which deter me?” “No, I don’t,” she said, calm with the advantage of his perturbation. “But if you refuse, that is sufficient. I will not inquire your reasons. I will simply withdraw my request.” “Thank you. But I beg you to understand that they have no reference whatever to you in—your own—capacity—character—individual quality. They are purely professional—that is, technical—I should say disciplinary,—entirely disciplinary. Yes, disciplinary.” The word seemed to afford Dr. Mulbridge the degree of relief which can come only from an exactly significant and luminously exegetic word. “I don’t at all know what you mean,” said Grace. “But it is not necessary that I should know. Will you allow me?” she asked, for Dr. Mulbridge had got between her and the door, and stood with his hand on the latch. His face flushed, and drops stood on his forehead. “Surely, Miss—I mean Doctor—Breen, you must know why I can’t consult with you! We belong to two diametrically opposite schools—theories—of medicine. It would be impracticable—impossible for us to consult. We could find no common ground. Have you never heard that the—ah regular practice cannot meet homœopathists in this way? If you had told me—if I had known—you were a homœopathist, I couldn’t have considered the matter at all. I can’t now express any opinion as to your management of the case, but I have no doubt that you will know what to do—from your point of view—and that you will prefer to call in some one of your own—persuasion. I hope that you don’t hold me personally responsible for this result!” “Oh, no!” replied the girl, with a certain dreamy abstraction. “I had heard that you made some such distinction—I remember, now. But I couldn’t realize anything so ridiculous.” Dr. Mulbridge colored. “Excuse me,” he said, “if, even under the circumstances, I can’t agree with you that the position taken by the regular practice is ridiculous.” She did not make any direct reply. “But I supposed that you only made this distinction, as you call it, in cases where there is no immediate danger; that in a matter of life and death you would waive it. Mrs. Maynard is really—” “There are no conditions under which I could not conscientiously refuse to waive it.”