"You don't like Brayle,"—he said—"But he's clever, and he does his best."
"To keep his patients,"—I hinted, with a smile.
He turned on his heel and faced me.
"Well now, come!" he said—"Could YOU cure her?"
"I could have cured her in the beginning,"—I replied, "But hardly now.
No one can cure her now but herself."
He paced up and down again.
"She won't be able to go with us to visit Santoris," he said—"I'm sure of that."
"Shall we put it off?" I suggested.
His eyebrows went up in surprise at me.
"Why no, certainly not. It will be a change for you and a pleasure of which I would not deprive you. Besides, I want to go myself. But Catherine—"