But the assent was very hesitating, and Hartley made no movement. Isaacson looked at him with sharply questioning eyes.
"I—I wish I was out of the case altogether," said the young man, weakly. "After this afternoon's row I seem to have lost all heart. I never have had such an unpleasant scene with any woman before. It makes the position extremely difficult. I don't know how she will receive us; I really don't. She never agreed to my proposition, and I left her looking dreadful."
"Mrs. Armine hates me. It's a pity. But I've got to think of the sick man. And so have you. Look here, Doctor Hartley, you and I have got over our little disagreement of this morning, and I hope we can be colleagues."
"I wish nothing better indeed," said the young man, earnestly.
"We'll go back to the Loulia. We'll see the patient. We'll have our consultation. And then if you still wish to get out of the case—"
"Really, I think I'd much rather. I've got friends waiting for me at Assouan."
"And I've got nobody waiting for me. Suppose the patient agrees, and you continue in the same mind, I'm willing to relieve you of all responsibility and take the whole thing into my own hands. And if at any time you come to London—"
"I may be coming this summer."
"Then I think I can be of use to you there. Shall we go?"
This time Doctor Hartley did move. A weight seemed lifted from his shoulders, and he went, almost with alacrity, towards the boat.