“Hang the shares!” said the doctor. “Let me finish what I was going to say.”
“Go ahead.”
“Damn it, man, don’t be so cool and unconcerned.”
“All right,” said Geoffrey.
“I say I like you for some things, Trethick, and I’m by profession tolerably hard and callous; but it frets me, sir, to have seen that poor girl lying there, after trying in her despair to throw away her life, and you as cool and cavalier as can be.”
“Well,” said Geoffrey, laughing, “I may be calm, but I was not, though, when I fetched you. As to my coolness, I haven’t changed my wet things after getting nearly drowned to save her, and I’m cheery because you told me there was no danger.”
“No, but she’s very ill. And as to your saving the poor lass, it was no more than your duty. You needn’t brag about that.”
“I don’t brag, doctor, so you need not be so peppery. I say, calling you up in the night don’t improve your temper.”
“Hang it, Trethick, don’t be a brute,” cried the doctor. “I’ve known you nearly nine months, and I never liked you less than now.”
“Thankye, doctor, but you’ll be better when you’ve had your breakfast. Come, don’t let’s part huffily. I am sorry I had to call you up, but you must charge extra.”