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He says it to me six times a week." Mary had risen, about to take her leave, but to her surprise Beaumaroy went on quickly, with one of his confidential smiles, "And now I'm going to show you that I have the utmost confidence in you. Please sit down again, Dr. Arkroyd.
"Never mind that; but I fancied he stared at Mr. Saffron's. And I've read somewhere, in some book or other, that doctors can tell, or guess, by the eyes. Well, that's only an idea. How does a lady doctor appeal to you, Sergeant?" "I should be shy," said the Sergeant, grinning. "Vulgar! vulgar!" Beaumaroy murmured. "That Dr. Mary Arkroyd?" "I had thought of her." "She ought to be fair easy to kid.
In fact, a lonely old bachelor, Dr. Arkroyd." Mary gave a little laugh and became less professional. "He's rather an old dear! He uses funny stately phrases. He said I might speak quite openly to you, as you were closely attached to his person!" "Sounds rather like a newspaper, doesn't it? He does talk like that sometimes."
They talked first of the coming war, and John advised his mother to prepare for it. "It will be a war between two rich and stubborn factions," he said. "It is likely enough to last for years. I may have to shut Hatton mill." "Shut it while you have a bit of money behind it, John. I heard Arkroyd had told his hands he would lock his gates at the end of the month."
At this event, of which she was acutely conscious and at which she was intensely irritated, she drew herself up, with an attempt to return to her strictly professional manner. "I don't find you the least impolite, Dr. Arkroyd," said Beaumaroy. It was impudent, yet gay, dexterous, and elusive enough to avoid reproof.
Alec needed someone more stable, stronger, someone in a sense protective; somebody more like Mary Arkroyd; that idea passed through his thoughts; if only Mary would take the trouble to dress herself, remember that she was, or might be made, an attractive young woman; and, yes, throw her mortar and pestle out of the window without, however, discarding with them the sturdy, sane, balanced qualities of mind which enabled her to handle them with such admirable competence.
And, anyhow, his medical adviser tells me there is no reason to suppose that my old friend is not compos mentis." "Irechester says that?" "Mr. Saffron's medical attendant is Dr. Arkroyd." As he spoke the noise from above suddenly ceased. Since neither of the men in the parlor spoke, there ensued a minute of what seemed intense silence; it was such a change.
Must have books, living so much alone as we do!" He had risen as he spoke, and approached Mrs. Naylor to take leave. She gave him her hand very cordially. "I don't suppose Mr. Saffron cares to meet people; but any spare time you have, Mr. Beaumaroy, we shall be delighted to see you." Beaumaroy bowed as he thanked her, adding, "And I'm promised a chance of meeting Dr. Arkroyd before long?"
"A very good thing the poor silly child did come to me!" That was the form her thoughts took. For although Dr. Mary Arkroyd was, and knew herself to be, no dazzling genius at her profession in moments of candor she would speak of having "scraped through" her qualifying examinations she had a high opinion of her own common sense and her power of guiding weaker mortals.
The woman was much less cordial; she was curt, and treated Beaumaroy rather as the servant than the friend of her dead cousin; there was a clear suggestion of suspicion in her bearing towards him. After a broad stare of astonishment on her introduction to "Dr. Arkroyd," she took very little notice of Mary; only to Mr.
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