"You would say, then, that your relations with Dr. Zellermann have been pleasant?"
She looked at him steadily as he handed her a drink. "Pleasant? What's that? Sometimes you get caught up in an emotion. Emotion is a driving power you can't ignore. When you get caught up in it, whatever you do seems pleasant at the time. Even if you curse yourself afterwards, and even if you don't dare talk about it."
"Do you mean, then, he isn't ethical?"
She twisted a smile.
"What's ethical? Is being human ethical? You're born human, you know. You can't help certain impulses. See Freud. Or Krafft-Ebing. To err is human."
"And he errs?"
"Of course he does. Even if he is a so-called witch doctor of the mind. Even if he has studied Adler and Brill and Jung and Jones. You don't change a character. All the things that went into making him what he is are unalterable. They've happened. Maybe some of his professors, or fellow psychiatrists, have helped him to evaluate those factors in their proper perspective, but he's still homo sapiens and subject to the ills they're heir to."
The Saint drank his drink, set the empty glass on the elaborate portable bar.
"We've taken enough of your time. Thanks for being so helpful."
Mrs. Meldon rose to her full and lovely height. "I'm no cross section on the man. Many more think he's wonderful than not. And in some ways," she said thoughtfully, "he's quite a guy, I guess."