"She says she is," said Laurence quickly.
"I don't pretend to understand anything," said the doctor plaintively, and sighed.
"Perhaps—you think she doesn't care enough about me—is that it?"
"Sometimes I think she doesn't care about anybody," was the regretful answer.
When they reached the gate, Carlin did not go in.
"I'll walk on, for a bit," he said.
The doctor went into his office-study and lighted a lamp. This room was arranged to suit him, and he did as he pleased in it. It smelt very much of tobacco, though there were no curtains and no carpet, only a couple of small rugs on the painted floor. The furniture consisted of a large desk, a sofa and two chairs, besides some shelves full of books. Out of it opened his bedroom, which had an outside door with a night-bell.
The doctor established himself in his easy-chair, with a pipe and a medical review. But his attention wandered from the printed page, and twice he let his pipe go out. Half an hour passed before the women-folk returned, and he noted that they entered the house in silence.