[CHAPTER XXIII]
Almost Over
THEY had followed the circuit of the landscape, standing up to look each way in turn; then resuming their seats. A break in the talk came. Doris twisted round, to gaze over the abrupt descent behind them—then looked again admiringly towards the wonderful Oberland dream-vision. She had anew the feeling that Maurice wanted to say something; and waited for him to say it.
Her sense spoke truly. All the morning he had been pondering how to lead up to this something—how to produce it; and conjecturing how she would take it.
He dreaded coming to the point. It might make all the difference with her; with his hopes of winning her. But the thing had to be said. And he could hope for no better opportunity. When he spoke, there was a sound of strain in his voice.
"You were asking one day—not long ago—how it was that I took to my present work."
"Yes, I remember. You said it wouldn't have been your own choice. I suppose that means that you don't care for doctoring—or rather, for surgery."
"It is a life with no end of openings."
"Openings for what?"
"Helping others. Being of use."