"I confess I looked upon you in that light very much myself, George," said the Doctor, "and after your departure felt what Mr. Browning calls the 'conscience prick and memory smart' at not having previously asked why and where you were going. It is rather late to pretend any interest now you have returned, but still I would ask where you have been and why you went." "I have been staying with some people who are friends of yours down in the west." "Down in the west you have been staying?" said the Doctor. "Whom do I know down in the west? Penruddock--Bulteel--Holdsworth?" "Not so far west as where those people you have just named live," said George. "I have been staying with the Derinzys." "The Derinzys!" And the Doctor's eyebrows went up into his large forehead, and his usually calm face expressed intense astonishment. After a few minutes' pause, he said: "Ah, I forgot. Young Derinzy is a colleague of yours, and a chum, I think I have heard you say." "Yes; it was on his invitation I went down to stay with his people. He was there on leave himself at the time." "Ah!" said the Doctor, who had recovered his equanimity. "And what did you think of his people, as you call them?" "They were very pleasant, kind, and unaffected, and thoroughly hospitable," said George. "Mrs. Derinzy is said to be in bad health. I understand that you have been occasionally summoned down there on consultation, sir?" He looked hard at his father; but the Doctor's face was unmoved. "Yes," he said quietly, "I remember having been down there once or twice." "To visit Mrs. Derinzy?" "I was sent for to visit Mrs. Derinzy." George paused for a moment, then he said: "I saw a good deal of a young lady who seems to be domesticated there--a niece of the family, as I understand--Miss Annette." "Ah, indeed! You saw a good deal of Miss Annette? And what did you think of her?" "I thought her charming. You have seen her?" "Oh yes, I have seen her frequently." "And what is your impression?" "The same as yours; Miss Annette is very charming." The two men formed a curious contrast. George had laid by his pipe and was leaning over an arm of his chair, looking eagerly and scrutinisingly in his father's face; the Doctor lay back at his length, his comfortable dressing-gown wrapped around him, his slippered feet on the fender, his eyes fixed on the fire, while he gently tapped the palm of one hand with an ivory paper-knife which he held in the other. "Father," said George Wainwright, suddenly rising and standing on the rug before the fire, "I want to talk to you about Annette Derinzy." "My dear George," said the Doctor, without changing his position, "I shall be very happy to talk to you about any inmate of that house; always respecting professional confidences recollect, George."