“How do you know that anything ailed me? Why have you hung on to that idea?”
“Because I’ve seen—for one thing—that you’ve got something on your mind. I told you so before.”
“And your theory is that—if I get it off—I’ll get rest?”
The doctor nodded.
Faunce rose from his chair and began to walk the floor, his arms hanging at his sides, his head bent. As he walked, he clenched and unclenched his fingers. Dr. Gerry followed the younger man with his eyes, but continued to pull away at his pipe, the intimate of his solitude. He noticed, too, in his cool, observing way, that the cat avoided his nervous visitor, rising from his path with elevated back and moving to a place of security beside the hearth.
The doctor bent down and threw a log upon the fire. The sound of its fresh crackling brought Faunce back.
“By Jove, you’re right!” he said harshly. “I have got something on my mind!”
The doctor smiled grimly. Faunce dropped into his seat and, leaning forward, laid his hand on the older man’s knee.
“Do you know that this afternoon, after I saw you go, I asked Diane Herford to marry me?”
Gerry took his pipe out of his mouth and laid it down.