The dinner passed off without any further incident, save that Mr Rawlinson returned looking very quiet and calm, and in time for the second course, of which he partook heartily, rising after the dessert to open the door for Miss Stonor to leave the room, and all in the most natural manner.
“Suppose we go into my room a bit now,” said the doctor. “We can have a cigar there;” and Daniel entering at that moment with coffee, it was taken into the doctor’s sanctum, the patients following the tray, the doctor hanging back with his principal guest.
“Well, my dear John, do you think you are going mad now?”
“No,” was the quick reply.
“Of course not. You see now what even a mild form of mania is.”
“I do,” was the reply. “But look here, doctor,” said Huish earnestly; “this feeling has troubled me terribly just lately.”
“And why?” said the doctor sharply, for Huish hesitated.
“Well, the fact is, doctor, it is possible that I may marry some day, and I felt—”
“Yes, of course, I know,” said the doctor; “you felt, and quite rightly, that it would be a crime to marry some sweet young girl if you had the seeds of insanity waiting to develop themselves in your brain.”
“Yes, doctor, that was it.”