The conversation then came to a sudden pause. Alice felt it would be out of place for her to speak her sympathies for the Nationalistic cause, and she knew it would be unfair to lead the doctor to express his. So at the end of a long silence, during which each divined the other's thoughts, she said: 'I suppose you see a great deal of the poor and the miseries they endure?' 'I have had good opportunities of studying them. Before I came here I spent ten years in the poorest district in Donegal. I am sure there wasn't a gentleman's house within fifteen miles of me.' 'And didn't you feel very lonely?' 'Yes, I did, but one gets so used to solitude that to return to the world, after having lived long in the atmosphere of one's own thoughts, is painful. The repugnance that grows on those who live alone to hearing their fellow-creatures express their ideas is very remarkable. It must be felt to be understood; and I have often wondered how it was that I never met it in a novel.' 'It would be very difficult to write. Do you ever read fiction?' 'Yes, and enjoy it. In my little home amid the northern bogs, I used to look forward when I had finished writing, to reading a story.' 'What were you writing?' 'A book.' 'A book!' exclaimed Alice, looking suddenly pleased and astonished. 'Yes, but not a work of fiction--I am afraid I am too prosaic an individual for that--a medical work.' 'And have you finished your book?' 'Yes, it is finished, and I am glad to say it is in the hands of a London publisher. We have not yet agreed about the price, but I hope and believe that, directly and indirectly, it will lead to putting me into a small London practice.' 'And then you will leave us?' 'I am afraid so. There are many friends I shall miss--that I shall be very sorry to leave, but--' 'Oh, of course it would not do to miss such a chance.'