“Good-evening,” responded the Doctor, and shook hands with each. The meeting was an emphatic pleasure to him. He quite forgot the young man’s lack of credentials.
“Out taking the air?” he asked.
“Looking about,” said the husband.
“Looking up new quarters,” said the wife, knitting her fingers about her husband’s elbow and drawing closer to it.
“Were you not comfortable?”
“Yes; but the rooms are larger than we need.”
“Ah!” said the Doctor; and there the conversation sank. There was no topic suited to so fleeting a moment, and when they had smiled all round again Dr. Sevier lifted his hat. Ah, yes, there was one thing.
“Have you found work?” asked the Doctor of Richling.
The wife glanced up for an instant into her husband’s face, and then down again.
“No,” said Richling, “not yet. If you should hear of anything, Doctor”—He remembered the Doctor’s word about letters, stopped suddenly, and seemed as if he might even withdraw the request; but the Doctor said:—