I observed Dr. Kennedy with more interest the next few times he came to see me. A personable man without self-consciousness, some few years younger than myself, the light in his eyes was strange and fitful, and he talked abruptly. He was not well-read, ignorant of many things familiar to me, yet there was nothing of the village idiot about him such as I have found in many country apothecaries. He looked at me too long and too often, but at these times I knew he was thinking of Margaret Capel, comparing me with her. And I did not resent it, she was at least fourteen years younger than I, and I never had any pretensions to beauty. Dr. Kennedy had good hands, long-fingered, muscular; dark hair interspersed with grey covered his big head. “What are you thinking about me?” he asked. “What sort of doctor you are!” I answered with a fair amount of candour. “Here have I been without any one else for three or is it five weeks? You don’t write me prescriptions, nor tell me how I shall live, what to eat, drink, or avoid. You call constantly.” “Not as often as I should like,” he put in promptly. Then he smiled at me. “You don’t mind my coming?” “Have you found out what is the matter with me?” “I know what is the matter with you!” “Do you know I get weaker instead of stronger?” “I thought you would.” “Tell me the truth. Is there no hope for me?” “Patients ask so often for the truth. But they never want it.” “I am not like other patients. Haven’t I got a dog’s chance?” He shook his head. “How long?” “Months. Very likely years. No one can tell. You are full of vitality. If you live in the right way....” “Like this?” “More or less.” “And nothing more can be done for me?” “Rest, open air, occupation for the mind.” I thought over what he had just told me. I had known or guessed it before, but put into words it seemed different, more definite. “Not a dog’s chance.” “You think Margaret Capel and Gabriel Stanton will do me good? They are part of your treatment?” I asked him. “They and I,” he said. I was silent after that, silent for quite a long time. He was sitting beside me and put his shapely hand on mine. I did not withdraw it, my thoughts were fully occupied. “You know I shall do everything I can for you; you are a reincarnation.” He spoke with some emotion. “Some day I shall want to ask you something; you will know more about me soon. You are in touch with her.” “Do you really believe it?” I asked him. We were in the upstairs room. Today I had not adventured the stairs. “May I play?” he asked. It was not the first time he had played to me. I rather think he played well, but I know nothing of music. If he were talking to me through the keys he was talking to a deaf mute. I lay on the sofa and thought how tired I was, may even have slept. I was taking six grains of codein in the twenty-four hours when the prescription said two, and often fell asleep in the daytime without preparation or expectation.