She looked down. "I suppose the world thinks I made him what he is now, so what's the use speculating? Let's talk about you for awhile. Miss McKane won't be back for a few minutes, so let's chat some more. Didn't I hear you tell her yesterday that you expect to leave for London about the first?"
"If you are up and about," said he.
She hesitated, a slight frown on her brow. "Do you know that you are pale and tired-looking, Dr. Thorpe? Have you looked in the glass at yourself lately?"
"Regularly," he said, forcing a smile. "I shave once a day, and I—"
"I'm serious. You don't look happy. You may confide in me, Doctor. I think you ought to talk to some one about it. Are you still in love with Miss Tresslyn? Is that what's taking the colour out—"
"I am not in love with Miss Tresslyn," he said, meeting her gaze steadily. "That is all over. I will confess that I have been dreadfully hurt, terribly shocked. A man doesn't get over such things easily or quickly. I will not pretend that I am happy. So, if that explains my appearance to you, Mrs. Tresslyn, we'll say no more about it."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've—if I've meddled,—if I've been too—"
"Don't worry," he broke in quickly. "I don't in the least mind. In fact, I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to say in so many words that I do not love her. I've never said it before. I'm glad that I have said it. It helps, after all."
"You'll be happy yet," she sniffled. "I know you will. The world is full of good, noble women, and there's one somewhere who will make you glad that this thing has happened to you. Now, we'll change the subject. Miss McKane may pop in at any moment, you know. Have you any new patients?"
He smiled again. "No. You are my sole and only, Mrs. Fenn can't persuade Rumsey to have a thing done to him, and Simmy Dodge refuses to break his neck for scientific purposes, so I've given up hope. I shall take no more cases. In a year I may come back from London and then I'll go snooping about for nice little persons like you who—"