"Sound philosophy," said he; "you are getting strong and well. Don't bother your head about what happened last century or last year."
He went to the door and called William.
The negro man came. "Some soup," said the doctor.
The soup was good. I felt better--almost strong. The doctor's friends sat by, saying nothing. The doctor smiled to see me take the soup somewhat greedily.
"Talk to him, Captain," said the doctor.
"My friend," said one of the men, "allow me to ask if you know where you are."
"I know what I've been told," said I.
"You must be good enough to believe it," said he; "you believe it or you doubt it. Do you still doubt it?"
"Yes," I said boldly.
"I can't blame you," said he. His voice was low and firm--a gentleman's voice; a voice to inspire confidence; a voice which I thought, vaguely, I had heard before.