“No, no, my dear Horace. I’m quite well. To consult you about Mrs Berens.”
The doctor pushed back his chair.
“Why, how surprised you look! You recommended her to come to me about her money affairs.”
“Oh! Ah! Yes, of course; so I did. She asked me to give her the name of a London solicitor, and so I gave her yours—my cousin’s.”
“It was very good of you, Horace, for I am a poor man,” said the visitor sleekly. “Far be it from me to quarrel with Uncle Richard’s apportionment of his money, but—”
“There, for goodness’ sake, don’t bring that up again! You know why the old man excluded you.”
“Yes. I had the misfortune to offend him, Horace,” said the visitor with a sigh.
“And now what about Mrs Berens?”
“Ah, yes; a very simple matter. You are a great friend of hers?”
“I am her doctor.”