"And he—what will he do?"
"What does the priest do when the secrets of the confessional are attacked?"
"Yes, yes—but then?"
"Then—oh! my precious girl! Can you not see? You will come into focus. You, my love, my wife, but, nevertheless, a woman! a trained nurse! Hapgood would flay you alive, not because he has anything against you, but professional honour and discipline would be at stake. Between such a man as Hapgood and—Priscilla Glynn—oh! can you not see my dear, dear girl?"
"Yes, I begin to see. And—I see I dare not trust even you!" The hard note in Priscilla's voice hurt Travers cruelly. "And—you, you and Doctor Ledyard—how would you stand?" she asked faintly.
Travers held her at arm's length, and his face turned ashen gray.
"Besides being men, we, too, are physicians!" he said. "Brutal as this sounds, it is truth!"
The light burned dangerously in Priscilla's eyes.
"When you are physicians—you are not men!" she panted, and suddenly, by a sharp stab of memory, Ledyard's words, back in the boyhood days at Kenmore, stung Travers. They were like an echo in his brain.
"You—you of all women, cannot say that and mean it, my darling!" he cried, and tried to draw her to him. She resisted.