"You will sound me?"
"Loosen your dress."
As he bent over her she raised her hand as if to smoothe his hair, and the colour came into her face, but she did not touch him.
Her fingers, from which she had drawn her gloves, were laden with rings—rings which he had not given her. His breath came a little faster as he stooped over her neck.
"Don't be scared to tell me the truth," she said; "I guess I'm pretty bad. You need not take the trouble to lie about it."
He examined her thoroughly and replaced the stethoscope before he spoke.
"Your lungs are not right. They used to be."
"Oh," she replied bitterly, "I used to be. I have come too late—is that what you mean?"
"I mean that you must exercise great care and avoid excitement. Don't brood—don't worry yourself by misgivings, which will only do you harm. Go away from England when the summer is over; go where the sun shines and the air is mild. Lead a life of ease and indolence. I can say no more."
"And then?"