“Ah, well, I shall not press you, doctor; but I’m down and you are down after this painful affair, so what do you say to prescribing for us both pints of good cham and a seltzer, eh? Not bad, eh?”
“Excellent, I’m sure,” said Asher, smiling; “but really I cannot think of—er—one note is ample.”
“Bosh, sir!” cried Gellow, crumpling up both, and pressing them into the doctor’s hand. “Professional knowledge must be paid for. Here, waiter; wine-list. That’s right. Bottle of—of—of—of—Oh, here we are. Dry Monopole and two seltzers—no, one will do. Must practise economy; eh, doctor?”
The waiter hurried out, and Gellow continued confidentially,—
“Bless her! Charming woman, but bit of a tyrant, sir. Love her like mad don’t half express it; but there are times when a man does like a run alone. Just off with a friend for a bit of a cruise when the check-string was pulled tight. You understand?”
“Oh, yes; I begin to understand.”
“Ah, here’s the stimulus, and I’m sure we require it.”
Pop!
“Thanks, waiter. Needn’t wait. Now, doctor: bless her—the dear thing’s health. Hah, not bad—for the country. I may take her back to-day, eh?”
“Well, er—if great care were taken, and you broke the journey if the lady seemed worse—I—er—think perhaps you might risk it,” said Asher, setting down his empty glass. “Of course you would take every precaution.”