She stopped and stared at him, as if struck with a new idea.
"You see," he cried quickly, "you cannot even finish your sentence. You have forgotten what you were going to say."
"No," she replied promptly, "I was just thinking—something flashed across my mind. Dr. Zacharie, you were sent here by Uncle James to watch me."
"To watch you?" he echoed with well-simulated surprise.
"Yes," she said firmly. "To watch me—am I right?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Your uncle is anxious about you, of course—why not? You have said many strange things about him. He is actually afraid for you, and for himself. It's natural enough. But come, don't let us speak of him. That is the one subject that we should never mention before you. It is your—your—what shall I call it—that the non-scientific person may understand?"
Paula paced nervously up and down the room. What did these insinuations mean? What was the real object of this ambiguous questioning? She was about to retort angrily, when the door opened, and to her great relief Mrs. Parkes entered.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the landlady, about to withdraw.
"Don't go, please," cried Paula, going forward. "I want to see you, Mrs. Parkes. Dr. Zacharie is just going." Turning to dismiss him without further ceremony, she said curtly: "Good-by, doctor. Please thank my uncle, and tell him I don't need medical attention."