He saw that she could go no farther.
“Exactly, some other time. Let us say in about two weeks. During that time my prescription for you is a rest down at Atlantic City with long walks and a dip in the pool every morning. Come back then and tell me how you feel, and don't think about those dreams and voices. But think about your past life—about those things that you find it hard to tell me. It may not be necessary to tell me provided you know the truth yourself. Will you promise that?” He smiled at her encouragingly as she nodded. “Good! Now be cheerful. I am not deceiving you, Mrs. Wells, I am too sensible an old timer to do that. I give you my word that these troubles can be easily handled. I really do not consider you in a serious condition. Now then, until two weeks from today. I'll make you a friendly little bet that when I see you again you'll be dreaming about flower gardens and blue skies and pretty sunsets. Good morning.”
He watched her closely as she turned with a sad yet hopeful smile to leave the room.
“Thank you very much, doctor. I'll come back two weeks from today.”
Then she was gone.
For some minutes Owen sat drumming on his desk, lost in thought. “By George, that's a queer case. Her other reason is the real one. I wonder what it is?”