She tucked away the bottle in her bag and made her exit through the side door, which Colin had stepped forward to open for her. As she passed out Martha Jane appeared in the passage. "Are you ready for lunch, sir?" she inquired. "I'm more than ready," said Colin. "I'm positively aching for it." Martha Jane nodded sympathetically. "It must be 'ard work for a young gentleman like you, sir, 'avin' to sit there and listen to all them diseases. You go along into the dinin' room and I'll run up and tell Miss Nancy. I sha'n't keep you waitin' more than a couple o' minutes." Colin returned to his desk, and, having completed his report, with a brief entry on the subject of Mrs. Jones, made his way out into the hall, where he encountered Nancy in the act of descending the staircase. "I'll be with you in a second," he said. "I'm just going to remove the germs." He hurried across to the cloak room, and, after changing his coat and indulging in a welcome bout with a basin of hot water, emerged again in a hungry but contented humour. Nancy was already seated at the table, looking disturbingly pretty in her severe and businesslike costume. Although, on his arrival at the surgery, they had spent a crowded quarter of an hour together, opening the post and discussing the day's work, this was the first opportunity they had had for anything like a private conversation. "Well," she inquired cheerfully, "how have you been getting on this morning?" Colin sank into the vacant chair and stretched out his hand toward the whisky. "I'm still alive," he said, "but that's about all. Every day, in every respect, my admiration for Mark grows deeper and deeper." Nancy pushed across the soda. "I often wonder he hasn't broken down," she said. "It's only sheer good nature and kindness that keep him going. He comes in to lunch every day and says the most blood-curdling things about the patients, but in his heart he just loves them all." "I know he does," returned Colin, "and I've been trying to copy his example. It's thirsty work, though, when you come to people like Mrs. Jones." He took a long drink and set down the tumbler. "By the way, is there any news from him?" "Not yet," said Nancy. "The operation was to be at ten o'clock, and he promised to wire directly he knew the result. We shall probably get a telegram this afternoon." Colin attacked the roast chicken, which Martha Jane had cooked to perfection, and passed over a generous helping. "And what about last night?" he inquired. "I had no time to ask you anything this morning, but I'm longing to hear how Fenton behaved himself." "Well, to begin with," said Nancy, "he asked me to marry him." Colin paused in the act of dissecting a wing. "Did he, by Jove! I hope you told him to go to blazes?" "Something rather similar," said Nancy, "only I tried to put it as nicely as possible." "And how did he take it?"