"Thank you, not to-night. It's a great book, and stirs the blood with its attempt to tell the story of a war whose real story can never be told by any one, no matter what skill the historian brings to the telling. But I'm not in the mood for it to-night. I wonder if, instead, you won't tell me a bit about yourself. You've never said a word about the work you do with my friend, Dr. Burns. Do you like it?"
She hesitated. Was this a safe subject, she wondered, for a surgeon who, she understood, had broken down from overwork? But the question had been asked.
"Very much," she answered, quietly. "One could hardly help liking work under Dr. Burns."
"Why? Do you think him a fine operator?"
"Very fine. He is considered the best in the city, now, I believe, even though his office is out here in the village. Of course it is not a great city, but his reputation extends out into the towns around."
"He is an enthusiast in his profession, I know. And you are one in yours, I see."
"Do you see it, Dr. Leaver? I thought I spoke quite moderately."
"So moderately that I recognized the restraint. You assist Dr. Burns whenever he operates?"
"Yes—if I am free."
"He can't have been doing much lately, then."