“Pray go for Dr Knatchbull!” she cried piteously.
“But isn’t he—”
“We do not know—we are afraid to hope—pray, pray go.”
“She hasn’t spoken so gently since that night,” muttered Crampton, as he hurried down the street. “Poor girl! it is very hard; and this may be only the change before—No, I won’t think that,” cried the old clerk, and he broke into a run.
Volume Two—Chapter Seventeen.
Crampton Reports Progress.
“Yes,” said Dr Knatchbull, confidently; “he will get over it, now. Can’t say,” he said, rubbing his hands in his satisfaction, “whether it’s the doctor’s physic, or the patient’s physique, but one of them has worked wonders. What do you say, Miss Van Heldre?”
“That we can never be sufficiently grateful to you.”