"Well, no; I hope not in danger, Mr Gresham. I certainly believe I may be justified in expressing a hope that she is not in danger. Her state is, no doubt, rather serious—rather serious—as Dr Century has probably told you;" and Dr Fillgrave made a bow to the old man, who sat quiet in one of the dining-room arm-chairs.
"Well, doctor," said the squire, "I have not any grounds on which to doubt your judgement."
Dr Fillgrave bowed, but with the stiffest, slightest inclination which a head could possibly make. He rather thought that Mr Gresham had no ground for doubting his judgement.
"Nor do I."
The doctor bowed, and a little, a very little less stiffly.
"But, doctor, I think that something ought to be done."
The doctor this time did his bowing merely with his eyes and mouth. The former he closed for a moment, the latter he pressed; and then decorously rubbed his hands one over the other.
"I am afraid, Dr Fillgrave, that you and my friend Thorne are not the best friends in the world."
"No, Mr Gresham, no; I may go so far as to say we are not."
"Well, I am sorry for it—"