"I only hope you have not overdone it," muttered the woman.
"And the meaning of that remark, madame?"
Leah wanting to know, yet, fearing to know, evaded an answer and shirked a question. "Leave me for a time," she entreated.
"No--if you will pardon my rudeness. We have much to talk about."
"Cannot you wait till after the funeral?" she said crossly. "It will look so strange, your remaining here with me."
"Ah, but no, madame. To those who might speak I am but your doctor, who has brought you here to recover yourself."
"I am perfectly recovered--perfectly."
"In that case we can talk," he insisted.
She yielded, not being yet her old fighting self after the soul-shaking. It was dangerous to enter upon a contest with flawed armour, so she temporised. It would be best, she decided, to hear his story, without committing herself to comments. Later, when her nerves were steady, she could answer more cautiously the question he was about to ask at an inopportune moment. Her wary nature declined a consideration of marriage arrangements, to the extent of fixing a date for a ceremony in which she did not intend to take part. Still, he could plead, and she could, and would, procrastinate; therefore would the victory be with her when this unprepared interview ended.
"Talk on," she said languidly; then added, with a spite created by shattered nerves, "though I think it very disagreeable of you, to make me look on that horrid dead thing."