The Doctor met him as if he was an expected client. "You are come at last, Hatton," he said. "I have been expecting you for a long time."
"Then you know what instruction I have come for?"
"I should say I do."
"What is the matter with my wife's health?"
"I ought to send you to her for that information. She can tell you better than I can."
"Sewell, what do you mean? Speak straight."
"Hatton, there are some women who love children and who will even risk social honor for maternity. There are other women who hate mother
hood and who will constantly risk suicide rather than permit it. Mrs. Hatton belongs to the latter class."
John was stupefied at these words. He could only look into the Doctor's face and try to assimilate their meaning. For they fell upon his ears as if each syllable was a blow and he could not gather them together.
"My wife! Jane—do you mean?" and he looked helplessly at Sewell and it was some minutes before John could continue the conversation or rather listen to Sewell who then sat down beside him and taking his hand in his own said,