“Oh, yes, I do know Miss Borrowby!” said Miss Franklin. “I know her better than you do!”
Andrew didn’t like her tone, but he let it pass, with a meekness quite new to him. Miss Franklin smiled and went away.
He intended to spend the evening perfecting his analysis in peace; but scarcely had he got well started when Miss Franklin opened the door.
“A patient!” she said.
It was a lady. She sat down beside Andrew’s desk, without raising her veil, and at once began to sob.
“Oh, doctor!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do! Oh, my suffering! What shall I do?”
He felt quite sure that this was a drug addict, and his manner, though kind, was one of thorough sophistication.
“Now, now, my dear madam!” he said. “Don’t excite yourself!”
“You don’t even know me!” she cried, pushing up her veil.
“I do!” he protested guiltily. “It’s Mrs. Hamilton. I knew your voice; but it’s dark here in the corners of the room when there’s only the lamp lighted.”