“There’s but one sensible and proper course, Richling; he must be taken at once, by force if necessary, to a first-class insane hospital.”
“Why, Doctor, why? Can’t we treat him better at home?”
The Doctor gave his head its well-known swing of impatience. “If you want to be criminally in error try that!”
“I don’t want to be in error at all,” retorted Richling.
“Then don’t lose twelve hours that you can save, but send him off as soon as process of court will let you.”
“Will you come at once and see him?” asked Richling, rising up.
“Yes, I’ll be there nearly as soon as you will. Stop; you had better ride with me; I have something special to say.” As the carriage started off, the Doctor leaned back in its cushions, folded his arms, and took a long, meditative breath. Richling glanced at him and said:—
“We’re both thinking of the same person.”
“Yes,” replied the Doctor; “and the same day, too, I suppose: the first day I ever saw her; the only other time that we ever got into this carriage together. Hmm! hmm! With what a fearful speed time flies!”
“Sometimes,” said the yearning husband, and apologized by a laugh. The Doctor grunted, looked out of the carriage window, and, suddenly turning, asked:—