“I beg pardon, sir; I did knock,” said the servant. “Urgent, sir. A lady in your consulting-room.”
“All right; down directly,” said the doctor, who had started up. “I say, Bel darling, I must be more professional. You mustn’t lock me in your dear arms like this without you turn the key. I sha’n’t be long.”
Isabel Lee uttered a low sigh as her betrothed made for the door, and as he passed out there was the sound of voices in the back drawing-room, Aunt Grace having finished her nap.
“Who is it, Laury?”
“I don’t know, aunt dear; something urgent. Smith said a lady.”
“Another lady? and at this time of night?”
“People fall ill at all times, aunt dear,” said the girl, coldly. “Hush! don’t say any more please; Isabel will hear you.”
“But I can’t help it, my dear,” said the lady in a peevish whisper, every word of which reached the visitor’s ears. “Oh dear me, I wish Fred was not so good-looking. Well, it’s only another fortnight. I begin to think he ought to be married at once.”