"Why—why—y—young man, I wasn't thinking anything about you just then." And again David laughed, while his wiry old friend jumped up and walked rapidly and restlessly about the small apartment and laughed in sympathy. "It's not—not—"
"I know." David grew instantly sober again. "Of course the little chap's case is serious—very—or I would not have brought him to you."
"Oh, no, no, I'm not thinking of Adam, bless you, no." The doctor always called his little namesake Adam. "I'm thinking of her—the little girl you left behind you. Yes—yes. Of her."
"She's not so little now, Doctor; she's tall—tall enough to be beautiful."
"I remember her,—slight—slight little creature, all eyes and hair, all soul and mind. Now what are you going to do with her, eh?"
"What is she going to do with me, rather! I'll go back to her as soon as I dare leave the boy."
"But, man alive! what—what are—you can't live down there all your days. It's to be life and work for you, sir, and what are you going to do with her, I say?"
"I'll bring her here with me. She'll come."
"Of course you'll bring her here with you, and you—you'll have plenty of friends. Maybe they'll appreciate her, and maybe they won't; maybe they won't, I say; Understand? And she'll c—come. Oh, yes, she'll come! she'll do whatever you say, and presently she'll break her heart and die for you. She'll never say a word, but that's what she'll do."