“Scarcely. But she has promised me to take the medicine which I shall send her as soon as I get back; and there will be no possibility of her death from inanition while she takes that. She seems to me to have naturally a splendid constitution, and there is no doubt that if she can be persuaded to take nourishment, and to cease from worrying, her health will be all that can be desired.” “You seem to have had exceptional success with your patient,” sneered Sir Philip, with a short and very unpleasant laugh. “Her other doctors couldn’t get a word out of her. Pray what method did you adopt to loosen her tongue?” Ernest Netherbridge was a quiet tempered man, by no means easily roused to wrath. But there was something in the hard contempt of the Baronet’s manner which seemed to rouse all the latent aggressiveness of his nature. Looking Sir Philip full in the eyes, he answered his question steadily. “I was extremely sorry for Lady Cranstoun, Sir Philip, and possibly I made up in sympathy for what I lacked in skill.” A very slight flush passed over Sir Philip’s colorless face. “I am extremely grateful for your most kind pity for my wife,” he said, with biting sarcasm. “In her name and my own I offer you my hearty thanks for your sympathy. May I ask how she has merited it?” “Certainly. Lady Cranstoun is very young. I understood her to say she is still under twenty. She appears to be very dull and lonely, and a prey to great depression. Also, she had not, so she told me, been outside the house for two months. Hers is a temperament imperatively demanding fresh air, plenty of exercise and change of scene, and bright and sympathetic society. Had she more of these things, I think it unlikely that she would entertain the idea of suicide, and require such constant watching as she does now.” “I am deeply obliged to you for your valuable advice as to how my wife should be treated. Perhaps it is a little outside your province as a general country practitioner; but I am none the less sensible of your generosity in conferring it upon me.” “Sir Philip,” returned the little doctor, taking his hat from the table, “in your letter you requested me to speak the truth. Unfortunately for my success in my profession, I am unable to do otherwise, and I can only regret that it has been unpalatable to you. I wish you good evening.”