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Updated: May 5, 2025
'The Scarlet Letter'! I got it a year ago. I read it. And when I had read it, I sent it to be bound in white." "Why was that?" "'Though your sin shall be as scarlet," she quoted. He was silent, looking at her. "Let us have tea." As she spoke, she went, with her slow and careless walk which Isaacson had noticed, towards the fireplace, and touched the electric bell.
His appearance was frankly abominable, but quite distinct from the appearance of a man dressed in a grey flannel tennis coat and wearing a Panama and that was the main point. Kellerman had also worked up a history and personality for the newly attired one. "You are Mr. Isaacson," said he. "Here's the card of a Mr. Isaacson who called some time ago, put it in your pocket.
I've often wanted to go." "Why don't you go?" Isaacson's mind asked that question, and his Jewishness replied. He made money in London. Every day he spent out of London was a loss of so much money. "Some day," Nigel continued, "you must take a holiday and see Egypt." "This winter?" said Isaacson. He lifted the cover of a book.
"Dear Doctor Isaacson: "I don't know what is the matter with me, but " etc., etc. He took up a third: 1x, Berkeley Square, Jan. Dear Doctor Isaacson: "That strange feeling in my head has returned, and I should like to see you about it," etc., etc. Usually he answered such letters with energy, and certainly without any disgust. They were the letters he wanted.
"Till now I imagined her about thirty, thirty-two perhaps, something like that." "Till now?" "Yes. She to-day she looks suddenly almost like a well a middle-aged woman. I never saw such a change." It seemed that the young man was seriously perturbed by the announced transformation. "Sit down, won't you?" said Isaacson. "No, thanks. He went to the rail. Isaacson followed him.
"It isn't usual for any one to be present except the doctors taking part in it," said Isaacson. "The consultation comes after the visit to the patient," she said; "and of course I'll leave you alone for that. I should prefer to leave you alone while you are examining my husband, too, but I'm sorry to say he insists on my being there." Isaacson was no longer in doubt about an ambush.
She stopped by the rail, and looked towards the west. "To me happiness seems such a brittle thing that any one might break it. And men forgive me! men generally have such clumsy hands." He leaned on the rail beside her, turning himself towards her. "You don't mean to say that you think Isaacson could ever break our happiness, even if he wished to?" "Why not?" "Don't you understand me at all?"
And that evening, a little before sunset, she kissed her husband and bade him good-bye, wondering whether she would ever see him again. Then she held out her hand to Meyer Isaacson. "Good-bye, Doctor! Take great care of him," she said, lightly. Isaacson took her hand.
There was in this fairness, this blanched delicacy, something almost pathetic, which assisted the completion, in the mind of a not too astute beholder, of the impression already begun to be made by the beautiful shape of the face. When Doctor Meyer Isaacson had finished speaking, that face had been a still but searching question; and almost immediately a question had come from the red lips.
She was sure if she remained longer in the villa she would betray herself by some sudden outburst. Isaacson had kept silence so long as to the cause of her husband's illness that she sometimes nearly deceived herself into thinking he did not know what it was. Perhaps she had been a fool to be so much afraid of him. She strove to think so, and nearly succeeded.
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