McTaggart wrung it in speechless gratitude. Then he struggled into his clothes.
"Well—I'm glad that nightmare's over! My double heart—Good Lord!" His laugh hid more than the doctor guessed—those long years of indecision, of weakness in the hands of women...
What a fool he had been! He saw now how often he had excused himself in the past on the score of his physical peculiarity for what was merely lack of control.
They chatted for a little time. Then McTaggart, rather red, drew out his sovereign purse, but the doctor checked him with a gesture.
"No—I won't hear of it! It's been a pleasure—honestly. If you feel at all indebted to me—you might ask me to your wedding."
"I will. But I wish ... Look here, sir—there must be some Hospital you're interested in at Brighton. Perhaps you would give it ... this—from me?"
His new friend laughed.
"Well ... all right——" the coins changed hands. "You're a loser any way, you know. You've just got rid of an extra heart."
"Thank goodness!" McTaggart laughed—"I find one quite sufficient." His mind swerved aside to Jill, his face softening as he spoke.
The doctor guessed the trend of his thoughts and picked up the fallen paper.