Presently Dale had given him a little phial—and was holding up to the window a small medicine glass into which he was pouring very carefully twenty drops of the precious fluid. “Take it only,” he said, “when you feel you must.”
“It is the most golden of liquids,” said the bishop, peering at it.
“When you want more I will make you more. Later of course, it will be possible to write a prescription. Now add the water—so.
“It becomes opalescent. How beautifully the light plays in it!
“Take it.”
The bishop dismissed his last discretion and drank.
“Well?” said Dr. Dale.
“I am still here,” said the bishop, smiling, and feeling a joyous tingling throughout his body. “It stirs me.”
(5)
The bishop stood on the pavement outside Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey's house. The massive door had closed behind him.