"I have two patients on board,"—he answered, smiling—"Which one?"
"The one who is your patient from choice, not necessity,"—I replied, coolly.
"My dear lady!" His eyes blinked at me with a furtive astonishment—"If you were not so charming I should say you were—well!—SHALL I say it?—a trifle opinionated!"
I laughed.
"Granted!" I said—"If it is opinionated to be honest I plead guilty!
Miss Harland is as well as you or I,—she's only morbid."
"True!—but morbidness is a form of illness,—a malady of the nerves—"
I laughed again, much to his visible annoyance.
"Curable by outward applications of electricity?" I queried—"When the mischief is in the mind? But there!—I mustn't interfere, I suppose! Nevertheless you keep Miss Harland ill when she might be quite well."
A disagreeable line furrowed the corners of his mouth.
"You think so? Among your many accomplishments do you count the art of medicine?"