There was a tap at the door.
“Yes. Come in.”
The door opened, and Aunt Anne entered cautiously.
“Ah!” she cried, “not reading. I was so afraid of disturbing you, my dear. You have grown such a learned man I’m quite afraid of you.”
“Nonsense, Aunt dear. A surgeon must keep himself au courant with what is going on in his profession abroad.”
“Of course he must, my dear, but he must not starve himself to death.”
“No fear, Aunt,” said Neil pleasantly. “I have no intention of trying any such experiment.”
“Oh, but you are always trying to live without food, my dear, and you look pale, and your hair is beginning to show grey. Why, you look fifteen years older than Alison, and you are only four.”
Neil winced.
“He looks brown, and hearty, and handsome, while you—”