“What did you say?” But she pretended not to hear, and he continued, “I want to ask you to be very nice to a friend of mine tonight who will sit next you at dinner.”
She moved restlessly. “Who is the man?”
“Dr. Paul Potter. I introduced him to you last night. Haven’t you heard of him before?”
“I believe your sister said he attended your mother when she was ill.”
“He was called in consultation. I thought you might have heard of Potter, he’s a famous brain specialist. We traveled together in the East; he’s deeply interested in that land of mysticism and occultism. You’ll find him an interesting talker.”
“Probably I will.” Marjorie’s fingers twitched spasmodically over her hand-bag. Her frayed nerves were giving way. “Would you mind stopping at the Portland Drug Store? I think I can get some—some iodine.”
“Does your tooth pain you very much?” asked Duncan, turning the car into wide Vermont Avenue and stopping before the drug store which occupied the ground floor of one end of the large triangular apartment house. “Can’t I run in and get it for you?”
“No, no, sit still.” Her imperative tone stopped him as he was about to arise. “The druggist can perhaps advise me what to do, I had better ask him myself—I—I shan’t be long.”
“I’ll wait, never fear,” laughed Duncan, settling back in his seat. He watched with grave solicitude the tall, graceful girl walk up the long approach through the parking and enter the drug store.
The minutes passed and Duncan finally waxed impatient. Glancing at his watch, he found he had been waiting nearly twenty minutes. A thought occurred to him; suppose Marjorie had fainted from pain and exhaustion? She had looked on the point of a breakdown when she left him. With a bound he was out of the car and into the drug store. One glance around the shop showed him the place was empty except for a clerk.