The talk languishing after a while, we spent the evening at cards, and what with the doctor's sallies and Edna's obvious replies, I think I was never more bored in my life. The only amusing thing about it was the way she played us off, one against the other, twitting the doctor with his remissness when he was not so complimentary as I was to her, and accusing me of a lack of humor when I did not join in their badinage. She distributed her favors impartially, upon the whole, though I caught several indications of some secret understanding between them, which was not surprising, considering the length of their acquaintance. He seemed to enjoy the evening as little as I, and to be a trifle embarrassed, even somewhat anxious. This was evident in the way he watched her covertly, and in the way he headed off all my questions, as if always on the defense. From a look she gave him, once or twice, I got the idea, also, that his foot was busy, under the table, and that he was using that method of signaling when the conversation got dangerously near whatever it was that he wished to avoid. This interested me considerably for the reason that her other foot was touching mine in a way that assured me of her conscious intention. The situation was as unpleasant as it was extraordinary. I lost myself, at times, in the inconsistency of it—the strangeness of her actions so unattuned to the exquisite body which was wont to house such delicacies of soul. She had indubitably changed from those first whimsical madcap moods of the morning. Somehow her personality had deepened; it had grown in strength and color; it was more assertive. She was no longer carelessly, thoughtlessly frank and forward, she had some definite motive.
Her coquetry and raillery lasted, thus, till ten o'clock, when she excused herself and went up to her room. The doctor and I remained in the library. I determined to cross swords with him.
"I'd like to know what you make of Miss Fielding's case," I began. "Anything, that is, that you can tell me with propriety. I confess I'm much interested in it."
"I'd like to know what you make of Miss Fielding's case."
He got up, long and thin, put his hands behind him under his coat-tails, and stood backing the fireplace.
"Oh, I know what you're interested in!" he said with his grin.
"Do you think there's any chance of her recovering?" I said, ignoring his sarcasm.
"What's she lost?" he asked.
"Why, herself, hasn't she? To-day, at least."