Venetia, who had been listening to the discussion wide-eyed, burst out explosively:—
"What are you two scrapping about, anyway? Aren't you going to see that sick woman?"
"Right you are," Dr. Coburn laughed. "I'll have to trot over there pretty soon."
"And I am going to see her, too, if you'll give me the address," Helen added. "By the way, Dr. Coburn, you know my husband, don't you?"
A peculiar look passed over the doctor's face as he replied: "Yes, in a way. I used to be chore-boy in the chemical lab when he was in college. But I wasn't his sort."
Helen recollected Jackson's exclamation when she had told him of her first visit with Venetia to the doctor's office. "That scrub!" Jackson had commented, simply and finally.
There was an awkward pause, which Venetia broke by saying, "I can take Pete, can't I?"
"I suppose he's well enough," Coburn answered reluctantly. It was plain that he would like to have some excuse to put off Pete's departure. The bit of friendship with the two women, which fate had tossed him, was too precious to part with easily. He picked the dog up brusquely, saying: "Pete, you are getting skinny. I guess it's time for you to go back to the good living you're used to. Don't you be getting into another mix-up, though, or there won't be enough dog left to patch."
Pete licked his hand in a puppyish way, as Coburn carried him to the carriage and placed him carefully on the seat between Venetia and Helen.
"Won't you come to see us?" Helen asked, as they shook hands. The queer look came back to the doctor's face.