“It’s no good staying here now,” he said, as gently as he could. “It’s really all right. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Can’t you help her a bit, doctor?”
Of course he couldn’t. A business of that kind would mean calling in the house-surgeon from the Prince’s. He was determined not to be driven into a panic, though this would have been easy enough, when he was convinced that the case was taking a normal though inevitably lengthy course.
“I expect you’ll want me again some time this evening,” he said.
Mrs. Brown showed him downstairs. “You’re sure it is all right, aren’t you, doctor?” she said.
“Perfectly all right. You know what a first case is.”
“I’d ought to,” said Mrs. Brown proudly. “I’ve had eight myself.”
He trudged back to Easy Row, where the professionals’ pianos, tuned in quarter-tones, were already combining to show their catholicity in musical taste. Boyce was drowsing in an easy-chair with the Greek Anthology open in his lap.
“Well, how’s your Mrs. Higgins?” he asked lazily.
“Oh, she’s all right. A primip. Is Mrs. Hadley through her little troubles?”