She looked at the card.
"'David Twelves, M.D., Edin.'. It can't be Dr. Twelves of Pitmuir?"
A voice came from the door.
"It's that same man."
[CHAPTER XVII]
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
In appearance the doctor had altered but little since we saw him last. He was the same little wizened old man, with the slight stoop, and the sunken eyes which looked out so keenly from under the thick, overhanging thatch of his shaggy eyebrows. When she heard his voice, and saw him, Margaret, running to him--before Harry, before the servant--put her arms about his neck (she could easily do it, since he was the shorter), and, after looking at him fixedly, as if to make sure that he was still the same man, kissed him on the lips.
"Dr. Twelves, to think of your coming to see me after all these years!"
"And whose fault is it that I haven't come before? whose fault I'd like to know?"
"It certainly isn't mine."