Ralph frowned in an elderly way, and bit his lip.
"Are you a good doctor?" she asked.
He laughed in his annoyance. "What am I to say to that?"
His laughter disconcerted her. "I mean a college doctor," she said sulkily.
"McGill, Bellevue," said Ralph.
"I don't know those," she said. "Have you any writings?"
Ralph stared at her. "What a question from an Indian!" he thought. He began to be aware that he was dealing with a distinct individuality, and for the first he perceived the classic beauties obscured by the grotesque outer semblance. The anatomist in him judged and approved the admirable flowing lines of her body, and the lover of beauty thrilled. One of her greatest beauties was in the graceful poise of her head on her neck. Indian women commonly have no necks to speak of. His gaze rose to her eyes and lost itself for a moment. All the Indians he had seen hitherto had hard, flat, shallow eyes; hers had depth and purpose and feeling. "Extraordinarily beautiful eyes!" he thought, with the start of a discoverer.
His good humor restored, he showed her his diplomas, following the script with a forefinger, and reading aloud.
"I can read," she said calmly.
Ralph felt rebuked.