"Vice, Madam! I thought that all intelligent people understood by this time. For the last ten years I and my colleagues have been trying to make them understand! It is not a vice from which your husband suffers. It is a disease!"
He saw that she was pleased that he had spoken to her thus—though he was in some doubt if she appreciated what he had actually said.
But already the shuttle of an incipient friendship was beginning to dart between them.
Two high clear souls had met and recognised each other.
"Well, suppose we get him to bed, Doctor," she said. "We can carry him up between us. There are two maids, and Tumpany is quite sober enough to help."
"Quite!" the doctor answered. "I rather like that man upon a first meeting."
Mary laughed—a low contralto laugh. "She has a sense of humour too!" the doctor thought.
"Yes," she said, "Tumpany is a good fellow at heart. And, like most people who drink, when he is himself he is a quite delightful person."
She went out into the hall, tall and beautiful, the jewels in her hair and on her hands sparkling in the candlelight.
Morton Sims took one of the candles from the table and went up to the couch.