"Very well." Dr. Carmon sat back and looked at him. "I think you'd better go to bed—and stay there for a while."
"You think I got up too soon?" Medfield's voice was patient and full of acquiescence; it was very meek.
"I don't think anything," said Dr. Carmon gruffly. "But when a man can't eat, he'd better be in bed.... There's nothing the matter with you."
Medfield's heart gave a quick little jump, and the doctor's hand that had strayed again to his wrist, counted it grimly.
"You're tired. That's all! Had company?"
"Some one came in—yes. She only stayed a few minutes," he added virtuously.
"Well." Dr. Carmon got up. "That didn't hurt you—probably. You'll be all right. How's the boy?"
"All right. He's generally here," replied Medfield.
"Doesn't tire you?"