“Show Mrs. Jones in here, Alice,” said the Doctor.
His own face had grown a shade or two paler.
“Blind people often speak in that way, Flower,” he said, with a certain intonation in his voice which made her regard him earnestly.
The memory of a rumor which had reached her ears with regard to the Doctor’s own sight flashed before her. She stooped suddenly, and with an impulsive, passionate gesture kissed his hand.
Outside the room David was waiting.
“Well, Flower, well?” he asked, with intense eagerness.
“I spoke to him,” said Flower. “We are here on sufferance, that’s all. He is the dearest man in all the world, but he is actually afraid of me.”
“You are rather fierce at times, you know, Flower. Did you tell him about—about——”
“About what, silly boy?”
“About the passions. You know, Flower, we agreed that he had better know.”