Again the sallow fingers began to play with the book-covers, passing from one to another, but always slowly and gently.
"I haven't much time for seeing any one, except my patients, and the people I meet in society."
"And of course you never meet Mrs. Chepstow in society."
"Well—no, one doesn't."
"She would have liked a visit from you, and she's very much alone."
"Is she?"
"Are you stopping on much longer in London?"
"Till the twelfth or fifteenth of August."
"She is stopping on, too."
"Mrs. Chepstow! In the dog-days!"