The great surgeon, however, did not miss the change in his voice. Jim went on looking at the picture, and kept his back to Sir Savile, who put his left hand--his right not being available--on his old pupil's shoulder.
"Have I touched a tender spot, lad? Well, cheer up! It's a wide world, with a heap of other pretty girls in it!"
And then he discreetly left Jim alone, and Jim studied the picture for some time longer, though he could not have told you afterwards whether it was a landscape or a portrait of a deceased noble earl of Lingfield.
There was no fast train back to town till six, so Jim had perforce to remain on at Carhall. He did not see anything more of his grandfather, who left the house after affixing his signature to the bulletin. He made no inquiry for Jim, and Sir Savile looked perplexed when he saw that his old friend did not intend to budge an inch from the relentless attitude he had adopted towards his grandson.
"And yet," mused the specialist, "he must feel as proud as Punch of the lad!"
Jim had a smoking-carriage all to himself on his return journey. He was glad of that, for he wanted to think of Dora, and solitude suited his mood. After this night he would have to put her out of his thoughts altogether, but to-night she was still Dora Maybury--still the queen of his heart. To-morrow Jim must in honour cease to be her subject; but to-morrow had not come yet. Soon enough the new day, dawning, would bring desolation to his love.
Strange that the turning-point in Jim's career should have come on Dora's wedding eve! Seemingly it was one of those compensatory acts wherewith Dame Fortune makes amends for the hard blows she deals. Jim knew that this day's success was good enough to make a specialist of him right away. And what joy would have filled his heart, this journey, had he been speeding back to Dora's side--he could imagine, had she been his, the pride that would have lit up her face when she heard of his achievement!
As the train cleft the darkness, eating up a mile of iron road with each minute that passed, Jim, just for the sake of the melancholy pleasure he extracted from it, let his fancy wander in the world of make-believe. Dora was his, and was awaiting him. He had only dreamed that she was another's. London to him now was no grimy, smoke-begirt city, but a palace of delight set in a garden fragrant with "the blended odours of a thousand flowers."
But, alas for such vain imaginings! A rough voice roused Jim from his half-dose, and a rain-spotted hand awaited his ticket.... It was London, and London in its dampest and most dismal garb.
Jim had wired from Threeways asking Koko to meet him at his surgery at eight. He thought they might spend the evening together amid cheery surroundings.