"That's well," he said.
His voice was inexpressive, but his face, turned full to the young doctor, told a powerful story of terribly serious doubt, the doubt of a big medical man directed towards a little one.
"That's well," he quietly repeated.
"Good-bye, Mrs. Armine," he said.
She was sunk in her chair. Her arms were still lying along its arms, with her hands hanging. As Isaacson spoke, from one of these hands her fan dropped down to the rug. She did not feel after it.
"Are you really going?" she said.
A faint smile twisted her mouth.
"Yes."
"Good-bye, then!"
He turned away from her slowly.