He was off on some new cure, his red bronze eyes shining, his whole bearing full of confidence and vitality. She waited till the subject was exhausted, and then put down her cup, fixing her eyes humorously on his face.
"And now, please, about that boy--No. 36 in the Queen's ward--I came to speak of him, you know."
Peter Ramsay faced her half angrily; then he smiled. "Of course I knew, though I don't see why you wish to find out my opinion."
"Possibly because I have an idea that your opinion may be right," she replied coolly. "What is it you wish to do? Something quite new, I expect."
He frowned. "There you are mistaken. It--or something like it--has been done at Vienna."
"By Pagenheim?"
"What do you know of Pagenheim? I beg your pardon! I was forgetting that women know everything nowadays. Yes, Mrs. Tressilian, by Pagenheim. He was my master."
She knew that; knew also that the great surgeon had sent him back to England as his best pupil.
"Well," she said after a time, "If you won't tell me I will order the Wiener Hospital Blatt; I shall see all about it there I suppose."
This time he laughed out loud. "You are very persistent, so I will save you the trouble of finding out in which number it is reported."