"Here, doctor," Violet most unexpectedly exclaimed. "As you are here I think I'll consult you."
"Not about me! Not about me!" Mr. Earlforward protested plaintively, imploringly, and yet implacably.
Violet leaned over him with an endearment.
"No, darling, not about you," she cooed. "About myself."
"I didn't know there was anything particular wrong with you."
"Didn't you?" said Violet in a strange tone at once dry and affectionate. "Elsie did. Will you come upstairs, doctor?" She was no longer the packer of books. She had initiative, authority, dominion. Horribly suspecting her duplicity, Henry watched her leave the office in front of the doctor, who had set down his parcels. Never, never, would he have a doctor!