"Well, don't think of it again—the next time it occurs to torment you, just remember that I, who have made brain troubles like yours my special study, think nothing at all about it."
"Thank you, I'll try to remember."
"Do so. Now, I wish to talk to you about another matter. You sleep badly."
"Do I?" Awdrey raised his brows. "I cannot recall that fact."
"Nevertheless you do. Your wife speaks of it. Now in your state of health it is most essential that you should have good nights."
"I always feel an added sense of depression when I am going to bed," said Awdrey, "but I am unconscious that I have bad nights—what can Margaret mean?"
"I trust that your wife's natural nervousness with regard to you makes her inclined to exaggerate your symptoms, but I may as well say frankly that some of the things she has mentioned, as occurring night after night, have given me uneasiness. Now I should like to be with you during one of your bad nights."
"What do you mean?"
"Come home with me to-night, my good fellow," said the doctor, laying his hand on Awdrey's shoulder—"we will pass this night together. What do you say?"
"Your request surprises me very much, but it would be a relief—I will go," said Awdrey.