"Somebody?" Raven repeated. He put his hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her. Milly was a good sort. It was too bad she had to be, like so many women benevolence mad, so disordered in her meddling. "I suppose you mean an alienist."
She nodded, her lips compressed. She would stick at nothing.
"Now Milly," said Raven, "do I seem to you in the least dotty?"
Tears came into her eyes.
"I wish you wouldn't use such words," she said tremulously. It meant much for Milly to tremble. "It's like calling that dreadful influenza the flu."
Raven was reminded of the old man down the road who forbade secular talk in the household during a thunder shower. It "madded" the Almighty. You might be struck.
"I won't," he said, the more merciful of her because she was on the point of going. "And I won't go back with you."
"Will you come later?" she persisted, still tremulous.
"No," said Raven, "probably not. If I do, I'll let you know. And you mustn't come up here without notifying me well in advance."
"That shows——" she began impulsively. "John, that isn't a normal thing to say: to expect your own sister to notify you."