"Young man?" She glanced up inquiringly. Though her sense of humour had developed almost morbidly, she had discovered that it was of a wilder variety than Doctor Faraday's.
"I think, my dear girl," he explained, "that you could go farther and do worse than take Richard. If I'm not mistaken, he has a future before him."
She laughed. "There wouldn't be much for me in that sort of future."
"But there might be in the results." Then he grew serious. "He is interested in you, and I hope something will come of it."
A pricking sensation in her nerves made her start away from him.
"Don't," she said sharply. "I've finished with all that sort of thing." "Not for good. You are too young." "Yes, for good. I can't explain what I mean, but the very thought of that makes me—well, sick all over."
Her face had gone white, and struck by the change, he looked at her closely. "Some women," he said, "are affected that way by a shock."
"You mean by a blow on the head?"
"No, I don't mean a physical blow. I mean an emotional shock. Such a thing may produce a nervous revulsion."
"Well, that has happened to me."