Richling’s eye kindled an instant at the Doctor’s compulsory tone, but he said, gently:—
“Why, Doctor, Mary will never consent to leave me.”
“Of course she will not. But you must make her do it! That’s what you must do. And when that’s done then you must start out and go systematically from door to door,—of business houses, I mean,—offering yourself for work befitting your station—ahem!—station, I say—and qualifications. I will lend you money to live on until you find permanent employment. Now, now, don’t get alarmed! I’m not going to help you any more than I absolutely must!”
“But, Doctor, how can you expect”— But the Doctor interrupted.
“Come, now, none of that! You and your wife are brave; I must say that for you. She has the courage of a gladiator. You can do this if you will.”
“Doctor,” said Richling, “you are the best of friends; but, you know, the fact is, Mary and I—well, we’re still lovers.”
“Oh!” The Doctor turned away his head with fresh impatience. Richling bit his lip, but went on:—
“We can bear anything on earth together; but we have sworn to stay together through better and worse”—
“Oh, pf-f-f-f!” said the doctor, closing his eyes and swinging his head away again.
“—And we’re going to do it,” concluded Richling.