Chicago lake-wind claimed me for a victim. I came down with a bad throat. Will insisted upon my consulting his physician friend. He was a handsome chap—this popular Doctor Pease—as blonde as Will was dark, but already marked with the ravages of dissipation. He had a genial raillery which made it almost impossible to take him seriously. I did not know whether it was a part of the treatment to unbare my throat and shoulders and sound my lungs and to let his hand linger on the uncovered flesh, but I didn't like it. Neither did I believe my age, my weight and my bust measure had any connection with my throat trouble. Of course I didn't tell Will anything about it, but the next time I needed treatment I asked him to accompany me. Will liked the doctor, so I kept my own counsel.
One noon-day Mrs. Pease telephoned that they were going off on a motor trip for a tour of the country clubs, at one of which they had planned to dine. They wanted me to join them and after the matinée they would send a car to pick up Will, and return him in time for the evening performance. I told Will I did not want to go, giving the excuse that my throat was still sore. Mrs. Pease answered that the doctor said the air would do me good and that he would be responsible for me. I endeavoured to compromise by promising to meet them at the theatre after the matinée when they picked up Will, but the doctor himself came to the 'phone and Will decided for me.
When the telephone announced the arrival of the party I went down to the reception room, where I found the doctor awaiting me. He bundled me into my great fur coat and insisted upon my wearing a fur cap his wife had sent me. He cautioned me to wrap up well, as the car was an open one. When we went out, as I supposed, to join the others, I was surprised to find that the doctor was alone.
"The rest of them have gone on ahead," he answered my enquiring look. "I was detained at the office and told them not to wait on us. We'll overtake them if the car is in good shape."
I felt strangely uncomfortable as I took my seat beside him in the racing machine. He secured the robes about me with his easy familiarity and tucked me in with a good deal of care. As he seated himself at the wheel and drew on his gloves he smiled at me and asked whether I was timid. He said he made it a rule to kiss a woman whenever she screamed. That was not a propitious beginning, I thought. The doctor drove skillfully, although recklessly.
The boulevard system of Chicago is an excellent one. We covered miles of smooth paving, from which the snow had been removed, before we reached the country roads. After he had "let her out a bit" and showed me what she could do, he slowed up and turned to me with a little laugh, "That's going some, isn't it?" It struck me at the time that "going some" was probably the motto on the city's escutcheon. Everybody wants to be faster than everybody else.
The air was exhilarating. My face tingled from the contact with the wind. The doctor's glances made me uncomfortable. "You look like a rosy-cheeked boy," he said. "I'd like to bite you." I silently thanked the stars the car was an open one.
Farther on we stopped at a country club. The doctor said it was a long time between drinks. As we drove into the club-grounds I noticed another motor under the shed. I hoped it might belong to other members of the party. The doctor made straight for the shed. When I looked at the deep snow, and only a narrow path cleared to the club house, I apprehended some silliness on the part of my host.
Disregarding his suggestion to sit still while he put up his machine, I climbed down and picked my way over the slippery path. I had not gone far when the doctor overtook me and, seizing me from behind, lifted me in his arms. Not even the presence of the men shovelling snow prevented. My first impulse was to free myself, and I believe I administered a kick or two. The more I remonstrated the more he laughed. The picture of making a ridiculous show of myself made me submit to being carried the rest of the way.
After ushering me into the living-room the doctor had the good sense to leave me alone for a while. By the time he appeared I had sufficiently recovered my equilibrium to receive him frostily. My dignity was lost on him. He pulled up a great armchair in front of the roaring fire and bade me drink the hot scotch the waiter at that moment brought in. A subdued titter from an obscure corner of the room sent the doctor in search of other occupants. He discovered them behind a screen.