The change in Archie Maine’s countenance was instantaneous. The wrinkles of doubt were smoothed out from his forehead, and he stood up, gazing as it were straight past the Doctor into the future, his lips compressed and a general tensity of expression seeming to pervade every feature. Then he started violently, for the Doctor exclaimed:
“Well done! The cure has begun.”
“What do you mean, Doctor?”
“Only this, my lad: that very likely there may be several relapses, but you are growing up fast. There, our consultation is over, and I suppose you have no more to say to me?”
“Yes, one thing, Doctor,” said the young man in a low tone, for the ladies’ voices were heard once more.
“Well, what is it?”
“Only this, sir—private and confidential.”
“Of course. What do you mean?”
“You will not tell Mrs Morley what I have said?”
“Is it likely, my lad?” cried the Doctor merrily, as he clapped his visitor on the shoulder. “There, be off. You are keeping a patient waiting.”