“I know exactly what’s the matter with you, Adele; what Frank Winchester would call your ‘thinking apparatus’ is a little weary, and I have a sure cure—put it here;” his shoulder being very convenient. “Now we can talk without thinking or think without talking; just as you please.”
Adele felt safer, and her mind much less disturbed.
“I’m so very inquisitive,” said she.
“That’s perfectly natural,” acquiesced Paul, who was himself feeling quite comfortable; “most women, I mean most people, are.”
“Doctor Wise is,” said Adele. “I like to hear him talk.”
“Oh, that’s the way the wind blows, is it?” exclaimed Paul. “I knew you would tell me sooner or later. I know the Doctor like a book. He’s the best friend I have in the world; but I’ll tell you something about him.”
“I don’t wish to know unless it’s good,” said Adele, then paused an instant; “but I think he can trust both of us.”
“Oh, yes, but the Doctor’s this way; now I tell you this in confidence. He often forgets how old he is, and thinks we are about the same age.”
“I don’t see anything very confidential in that; besides, I rather like these middle-aged old fellows who must wear glasses and won’t wear ‘specs;’ they keep their youth.”
“You surely don’t like frisky old boys?” laughed Paul.