Her eyes grew troubled.
"But it's such a fine chance—"
"For more of this 'improvement' business, I suppose," cut in the doctor, a bit brusquely.
She turned reproachful eyes upon him.
"Oh, please, doctor, don't make fun of me like—"
"As if I'd make fun of you, child!" cut in the doctor, still more sharply.
"Oh, but I can't blame you, of course," she smiled wistfully; "and especially now that I see myself how absurd I was to think, for a minute, that I could make myself over into a—a—the sort of wife that Burke Denby would wish to have."
"Absurd that you could— Come, come! Now what nonsense are you talking?" snapped the doctor.
"But it isn't nonsense," objected Helen Denby earnestly. "Don't you suppose I know now? I used to think it was something you could learn as you would a poem, or that you could put on to you, as you would a new dress. But I know now it's something inside of you that has to grow and grow just as you grow; and I'm afraid all the putting on and learning in the world won't get me there."
"Oh, come, come, Mrs. Denby!" expostulated the doctor, in obvious consternation.