"Yes."
With this monosyllabic answer Mrs. Roughsedge seated herself, and slowly untied her bonnet-strings.
"My dear, you seem discomposed."
"I hate men!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, vehemently.
The doctor raised his eyebrows. "I apologize for my existence. But you might go so far as to explain."
Mrs. Roughsedge was silent.
"How is that child?" said the doctor, abruptly. "Come!--I am as fond of her as you are."
Mrs. Roughsedge raised her handkerchief.
"That any man with a heart--" she began, in a stifled voice.
"Why you should speculate on anything so abnormal!" cried the doctor, impatiently. "I suppose your remark applies to Oliver Marsham. Is she breaking her own heart?--that's all that signifies."