“I will not drink a single drop.”
“Well, then, a composing draught. You are my patient for the time being, remember. You must let me prescribe for you. You are in a state of excessive nervous excitement, bordering upon hysteria. Drink this.”
“I assure you, sir, my disorder is not of the body,” she said wearily. “No medicine can relieve it.”
“Nevertheless, I will beg of you to give this a trial. It is but a thimbleful. It can't hurt you, even if it should fail to benefit you.”
“For aught I know it may contain a drug.”
“It certainly does contain a drug. I should not offer you aqua pura.”
“You juggle words, sir. I mean a poison.”
“Come; that is good. Do you think I would have been at such pains to dissuade you from suicide, immediately thereafter to seek to poison you?”
“I don't mean a deadly poison. You could do me no greater kindness than to offer me a deadly poison. I mean—it may contain some opiate, some narcotic, to deprive me of power over myself, so that I shall be unable to leave your house when the time is up.”
“Madam, look at me. Have I the appearance of a man who would attempt to get the better of you by an underhand trick like that?”