She was shown into the waiting room. A complete silence fell upon the room—the house—the city. Then a returning rustling of starched skirts in the narrow passageway was heard. The doctor would see her. She was led down the long corridor to a small room filled for the most part by a desk. A door was standing open into a larger room beyond, which was lined with white tiles and decorated with glass cases along the walls in which hideous instruments were displayed as if they were objects of art. The nurse having ushered Lita into the first room, retired to the second, where she remained without shutting the door between, and could be heard moving about and doing something with instruments that made a soft, continual clinking.
Dacer rose slowly from his desk, on which cards in several colors were strewn.
He said in his deep voice, "Yes, I thought it might be you."
"Doctor Dacer—" Lita began. Her throat was dry.
"Oh, don't explain," he said. "What's the use?"
For the first time she saw that she had no explanation whatsoever to offer. She could only say, "I haven't any idea why that man suddenly appeared at the house." It sounded feeble, even to her.
"Perhaps to inquire about Aurelia," answered Dacer, and permitted himself a most disagreeable smile.
"That's not funny," said Lita.
"It's not original. I got the main idea from someone else."
"Doctor Dacer, I never saw Mr. Valentine—nor wrote to him. The only explanation I can think of is—"