"Of course, I don't know how you've been in the habit of treating him before I came."
"Well, how did he treat me, then?"
"Oh, you'd better ask him about that! But," I added, to try her, "I think he's undoubtedly in love with you."
"And you're not? For shame, Chet!" She looked demurely at me, as if merely to impugn my taste. "He's not nearly so nice as you, Chet," she continued, "but he does treat me better. He's done a great deal for me, and, if I ever do get well, it will be through his advice."
"What does he do? How does he treat you—can you tell me?"
"Why, he hypnotizes me, you know. I told you that before."
"And gives you suggestions, I suppose?"
"I don't know what you mean. I just go to sleep, and after a while I wake up again. He hasn't been able to do it till quite lately, and I don't understand it very well, anyway. I don't care, so long as I recover. He says I'm a remarkably interesting case."
"So you are, Edna, most assuredly," I replied. "You would be, even if you were all right."
"Thank you for that. I'll put down one good mark to your credit. But tell me—was I pretty yesterday, Chet?" She looked up at me earnestly under her brows.