"Go on," said the doctor sardonically. "'A kind interest'—aweel?"
"But you don't, you can't know. You judge every case by your own. Because you were hardly treated, you think every woman deceitful. And yet, Leonore——"
"Leonore?"
"I do not call her that to her face, sir; I do not indeed."
"For which the Lord be praised—though it is but a small mercy. Did not I say it was in thought, my lad—but have it out, Tommy—such thoughts are best let out, like ill birds. Keeping them pent, they breed. Loose, they may fly away. How long has this been going on?" Suddenly the speaker's tone changed, becoming peremptory and commonplace.
Tommy murmured inaudibly.
"Speak out," thundered Dr. Craig, losing patience, "speak out, sir, and be damned to you. How long?"
"We met first on the last day of March."
"How? When? Where?"
"Accidentally. In the village. In the post-office. Till that day I had never——"