Love stories; Medical fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
“Because there are many others studying the disease who are free from
the necessity of supporting themselves, and so can give far more time
and money to the investigation than is possible for me. Even the
scientist must be rich in these days, Miss Durant, if he is to win the
great prizes.”
“Won’t you tell me something about yourself?” requested Constance,
impulsively.
“There really is nothing worth while yet. I was left an orphan young,
in the care of an uncle who was able to do no better for me than to get
me a place in a drug-store. By doing the night-work it was possible to
take the course at the medical college; and as I made a good record,
this position was offered to me.”
“It—you could make it interesting if you tried.”
“I’m afraid I am not a realist, Miss Durant. I dream of a future that
shall be famous by the misery and death I save the world from, but my
past is absolutely eventless.”
As he ended, the carriage drew up at the house, and the doctor helped
her out.
“You will take Dr. Armstrong back to the hospital, Murdock,” she
ordered.
“Thank you, but I really prefer a walk before going to _my_ social
intimates, the bacilli,” answered the doctor, as he went up the steps
with her. Then, after he had rung the bell, he held out his hand and
said: “Miss Durant, I need scarcely say, after what I have just told
you, that my social training has been slight—so slight that I was quite
unaware that the old adage, ‘Even a cat may look at a king,’ was no
longer a fact until I overheard
what was said the other day. My last wish is to keep you from coming to
the hospital, and in expressing my regret at having been the cause of
embarrassment to you, I wish to add a pledge that henceforth, if you
will resume your visits, you and Swot shall be free from my intrusion.
Good-night,” he ended, as he started down the steps.
“But I never—really I have no right to exclude—nor do I wish—”
protested the girl; and then, as the servant opened the front door,
even this halting attempt at an explanation ceased. She echoed a
“Good-night,” adding, “and thank you for all your kindness,” and very
much startled and disturbed the footman, as she passed into the
hallway, by audibly remarking, “Idiot!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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