"I didn't mean that you really had to start things right away," she heard Philip, dimly, explaining in a tone of courteous apology, "only when you wanted to, you know."
"It's all right, old fellow," John assured him kindly. "I didn't mind."
It was, indeed, quite a brotherly kiss, but even at that—and in the resigned way John had explained it there was little room for a girl's being excited—Joy felt a little dazed. But she didn't intend to let John see it. She had rented him for the month, so to speak, and, though it hadn't specially occurred to her, probably this sort of thing was all in the month's work... It was as near as the wishing ring could bring her to a real lover...
She raised her surprising eyes to him demurely.
"Thank you," she said with all apparent gratitude. "It was sweet of you to do that for Philip."
There was no answer possible to that, as far as she knew.
"You needn't say anything," she went on placidly, but with that spark of excited mischief still in her eyes. "Do you know, Dr. Hewitt, I'm getting to be much less afraid of you. You certainly have the kindest heart——"
Here the worm turned. He also got up off the floor, and stood over her, toweringly, as he answered.
"I haven't a kind heart one bit," he said—and was there a certain sharpness in his voice?—"kissing you isn't at all hard—"
"Compared to lots of messy things you have to do in the exercise of your profession?" finished Joy contemplatively, cocking her bronze head on one side, and looking up at him sweetly, her arms around her knees. "I know. I've read about them—I've read a lot. You have to give people blood out of your strong, bared right arm, and cure them of diphtheria, and scrub floors—oh, no, it's the nurses do that. 'A physician's life is not a happy one!'"