There was an instant’s pause, then Thorne picked up his witch-hazel stick and stood aside, balancing it in his fingers. With a slight inclination of her head Vera turned to leave him, but she had gone but a few steps when he overtook her.
“I seem always to give offense,” he said despairingly. “I’m an unlucky devil; never could express myself properly where I feel the most. Just now, Miss Deane, I only meant—” A pause followed as he sought the word he wanted. Vera’s sidelong glance convinced her that he appeared as perturbed as his speech implied. “I only meant to offer my services.”
“As a physician?”
He flushed at her tone. “Yes, should you require medical attendance.”
“Thank you.” Vera stole another look at him under lowered lids, but his air of detached, friendly interest baffled her. What motive had inspired his burst of passion a scant five minutes before? Vera’s eyes closed as if in pain, and there danced before her mental vision the words: “February 14—In grateful remembrance.” Was Thorne sincere in his proffer of friendship or was he still antagonistic to her and trading upon a woman’s sentiment to mask his true feelings? Pshaw! It was only fair to suspend judgment. It was the least that she could do in view of Thorne’s past kindness—but why had he pocketed the card so hastily? Vera opened her eyes to find Thorne anxiously regarding her. With perceptible hesitancy she took up the conversation where she had left off. “Perhaps when you call to see Mr. Porter I will get you to prescribe for me.”
“I am at your service.” Thorne bowed courteously. “May I accompany you as far as the lane?”
“Certainly.” And keeping step as much as the trees permitted they finally reached the path and walked briskly down it. Vera, who had been thinking intently, was the first to break the silence. “Have you studied law as well as medicine, doctor?” she asked. “And is that why they made you justice of the peace?”
“Not entirely,” he responded, as he opened the gate of the lane. “I have a smattering of the law, and a passion for criminal investigation.”
“Indeed?” Vera was unable to repress a start, and she quickly covered her agitation by pointing to the cleft switch which Thorne still carried balanced lightly in both hands. The switch, apparently of its own volition, had assumed a perpendicular position. “Why are you carrying that twig?”
“Looking for water; I want to sink an artesian well, and this little wand points the way in my investigation.”