"This is Monday, sir," the maid replied—I couldn't quite place her, but she seemed rather above her station and was stunningly beautiful.
"What of that?" I demanded, as fiercely as I could, considering how pretty the maid was.
"The doctor can only be seen on Tuesdays," said she. "It's on the door."
"But I'm sick," I cried. "Very sick, indeed."
"No doubt," she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders that I found very fetching. "Else you would not have come. But you are not so sick that you can't wait until to-morrow, or if you are, you might as well die, because the doctor won't take a case he can't think over a week."
"Nice arrangement, that," said I, scornfully. "It may do very well for immortals, but for a mortal it's pretty poor business."
The maid's manner underwent an immediate change.
