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Updated: May 25, 2025
He poured out the sparkling ale into a big tumbler, with hospitable good-will. Mr. Mool was completely, and most agreeably, taken by surprise. He too was feeling the influence of the doctor's good humour enriched in quality by pleasant remembrances of his interview with the cook. "I live in the suburbs, Doctor Benjulia, on this side of London," Mr.
Mool related all that had passed between Mrs. Gallilee and himself. At the outset of the narrative, Benjulia angrily laid aside his pipe, on the point of interrupting the lawyer. He changed his mind; and, putting a strong constraint on himself, listened in silence. "I hope, sir," Mr. Mool concluded, "you will not take a hard view of my motive.
"How is she?" he asked, eager for news of Carmina. "The worse for being moved," Benjulia replied. "What about your wife?" Answering that question, Mr. Gallilee mentioned the precautions that he had taken to keep the secret of Teresa's address. "You need be under no anxiety about that," said Benjulia. "I have left orders that Mrs. Gallilee is not to be admitted.
Benjulia replied, "Not the least in the world. Go to sleep." But he still remained in the room watching her as she grew drowsy. "Great weakness," Mr. Null whispered. And Benjulia answered, "Yes; I'll call again." On his way out, he took Teresa aside. "No more questions," he said "and don't help her memory if she asks you." "Will she remember, when she gets better?" Teresa inquired.
Carmina was still waiting and there was nothing further to be gained by returning to the subject of her mother with such a man as Benjulia. Ovid held out his hand to say good-bye. Taking the offered hand readily enough, the doctor repeated his odd question "I haven't been rude, have I?" with an unpleasant appearance of going through a form purely for form's sake.
After knowing Benjulia for years, I have never noticed, what you have discovered on first seeing him." "Perhaps he has some way of cleaning the stains off his hands." Ovid agreed to this, as the readiest means of dismissing the subject. Carmina had really startled him.
A mad bull is nothing to my friend if you speak of Vivisection." Ovid looked at him steadily, when he uttered the last word. Benjulia looked back, just as steadily at Ovid. At the moment of that reciprocal scrutiny, did the two men suspect each other? Ovid, on his side, determined not to leave the house without putting his suspicions to the test.
"She would say Doctor Benjulia, your name ought to be Herod." "Who was Herod?" "Herod was a Royal Jew, who killed little girls when they took away his walking-stick. Come here, child. Shall I tickle you?" "I knew you'd say that," Zo answered. When men in general thoroughly enjoy the pleasure of talking nonsense to children, they can no more help smiling than they can help breathing.
The idea of approaching Benjulia became repellent to him. What he might afterwards think of himself what his mother and Carmina might think of him if he returned without having entered the doctors' house, were considerations which had no influence over his mind, in its present mood. The impulse of the moment was the one power that swayed him. He put the latch back in the socket.
"Pick him up!" the doctor reiterated; "he can't bite anybody, after what I've done to him." The monkey was indeed in a state of stupor. The keeper obeyed his instructions, looking half stupefied himself: he seemed to be even more afraid of the doctor than of the monkey. "Do you think I'm the Devil?" Benjulia asked with dismal irony. The man looked as if he would say "Yes," if he dared.
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