"Is her physical condition also likely to grow worse?" asked Mayne. He did not mop his brow upon this occasion; he felt, not without self-reproach, a deep relief.
"We can't prophesy about that. We have had patients of her type who have lived for a long time and others who lived only a few months."
"What do you mean by a long time?"
"Well, for some years," said Dr. King in his kind voice.
Stephen rose and took his hat from the table. He was depressed and intensely nervous. Mayne's large body and the superintendent's sympathy and Dr. Good's bright, observant eyes irritated him.
"She's to have, of course, every possible attention. You have Professor Mayne's address and mine."
"We make weekly reports unless we are directed otherwise. In case of an unusual development we should telephone you. You understand, Dr. Lanfair, that Mrs. Lanfair's attitude toward you is a part of her malady?"
"I understand perfectly."
At the door Mayne and Stephen bade one another good-bye. Both remembered a thin, eager boy with a black band on his gray sleeve and a short, slender, black-eyed girl.
"It's hard on you, Stephen."