“Did I ever say that it was not?” she said, reproachfully.
“No, dear. But——”
Then I explained, as carefully as I could, how essential it was that we should settle down; that while I continued to study, I should commence practising my profession; a thing as essential to a medical man as theoretical study.
“You are going to practise?” she asked, in evident horror.
“Certainly,” I said, firmly.
“Where? Here?” (This was at the Pinewood.)
“Scarcely here, I think,” I said. “In London.”
She said no more. For days after she was gentle, affectionate, but a very drooping lily indeed. Everything seemed an effort to her.
I persisted. Sir Roderick’s town house had been sold to pay off some mortgages on the Pinewood. So I saw my good friend Dr. Hildyard about a house. After discussion, he offered me a floor in his house (which he only used for business, having taken a country house near Finchley as his place of residence).
“By-and-by we may take it into our heads to be partners, Paull,” he said. “Then you will be on the premises.”