"Quite sure—for she told me so."
The simplicity of this answer made Isaacson's mind smile and something else in him sigh.
"I have to go into the country," Nigel said. "I've got to see Harwich and Zoe, my sister-in-law you know, and my married sister—"
A sudden look of distress came into his eyes. He got up. The look of distress persisted.
"Good-night, Isaacson, old fellow!"
He grasped the Doctor's hand firmly, and his hand was warm and strong.
"Good-night. I like to feel I know one man who thinks so entirely for himself as you do. For—I know you do. Good-bye."
The look of distress had vanished, and his sincere eyes seemed to shine again with courage and with strength.
"Good-bye."
When he was gone, Isaacson stood by the mantel-piece for nearly five minutes, thinking and motionless. The sound of the little clock striking roused him. He lifted his head, looked around him, and was just going to switch off the light, when he noticed the open book on his table. He went to shut it up.