“What ailed your Margaret?” I answered mockingly. “Did you ever find that out?” “No ... yes. Of course I knew.” “Did you ever examine her?” I was curious to know that; suddenly and inconsequently curious. “Why do you ask?” But his face changed, and I knew the question had been cruel or impertinent. He let go my hand abruptly, he had been holding it all this time. “I did all that any doctor could.” He was obviously distressed and I ashamed. “Don’t go yet. Sit down and have a cup of tea with me. I’ve been here three weeks and every meal has been solitary. Your Margaret”—I smiled at him then, knowing he would not understand—“comes to me sometimes at night with my nepenthe, but all day I am alone.” “By your own desire then, I swear. You are not a woman to be left alone if you wanted company.” He dropped into a chair, seemed glad to stay. Presently over tea and crumpets, we were really talking of my illness, and if I had permitted it I have no doubt he would have gone into the matter more closely. As it was he warned me solemnly against the nepenthe and suggested I should try codein as an alternative, a suggestion I ignored completely, unfortunately for myself. “Tell me about your partner,” I said, drinking my tea slowly. “Oh! you’ll like him, all the ladies like him. He is very spruce and rather handsome; dapper, band-boxy. Not tall, turning grey....” “Did she like him?” I persisted. “She would not have him near her. After his first visit she denied herself to him all the time. He used to talk to me about her, he could never understand it, he was not used to that sort of treatment, he is a tremendous favourite about here.” “What did she say of him?” “That he grinned like a Cheshire cat, talked in _clichés_, rubbed his hands and seemed glad when she suffered. He has a very cheerful bedside manner; most people like it.” “I quite understand. I won’t have him. Mind that; don’t send him to see me, because I won’t see him. I’d rather put up with you.” I have explained I was beyond convention. He really tried hard to persuade me, urged Dr. Lansdowne’s degrees and qualifications, his seniority. I grew angry in the end. “Surely I need not have either of you if I don’t want to. I suppose there are other doctors in the neighbourhood.” He gave me a list of the medical men practising in and about Pineland; it was not at all badly done, he praised everybody yet made me see them clearly. In the end I told him I would choose my own medical attendant when I wanted one. “Am I dismissed, then?” he asked. “Have you ever been summoned?” I answered in the same tone. “Seriously now, I’d like to be of use to you if you’d let me.” “In order to retain the _entrée_ to the house where the wonderful Margaret moved and had her being?” “No! Well, perhaps yes, partly. And you are a very attractive woman yourself.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “It is quite true. I expect you know it.”