"Yes, you do. Come, tell me!" He sat down on the edge of the bed with the evident determination to get at the root of the matter.
She held back for a little, but finally, finding him obdurate, sat up and drew herself within the circle of his arm.
"There, my dear! What is it?" said Dr. Jim.
She hid her face on his shoulder. "Dad, it—it's something to do with
Max," she whispered.
"Max? Who is Max?" demanded Dr. Jim inquisitorially, the while he cuddled her close.
"Oh, you know, dear,—Dr. Wyndham," she murmured.
"Oh! So you call him Max, do you?" said Jim drily. "That's an innovation, so far as I am concerned."
"I couldn't help it," she faltered, hiding her face a little lower. "He made me."
"Did he indeed?" said Dr. Jim. "Well? What's the trouble?"
"I—I can't remember," she whispered forlornly.