"I don't know," Julian said. But he was conscious that there had come a change in his attitude of mind towards temptation. Some men glory in resisting temptation, others in yielding to it. Hitherto Julian had not been able to range himself in either of these two opposed camps. He had merely hated his faculty for being tempted. Did he entirely hate it now? He could not say so to himself, whatever he might say to others, but something kept him from making confession of the truth to Valentine. So he professed ignorance of his own exact state of feeling; really, had he analyzed his reticence, it sprang from a fine desire to give forth no breath that might tarnish the clear mirror of Valentine's nature. He would not admit a change that might make his friend again fall into the absurd dissatisfaction which he had combated on the night of their first sitting in the tent-room. While they talked the afternoon had fallen into a creeping twilight. In the twilight the front door bell rang.
"Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door," Valentine said, quoting Poe. "It must be the doctor."
Julian reddened suddenly.
"I hope not," he said.
"What?" Valentine cried. "You don't want our little doctor?"
"Somehow not—to-day."
The door opened and Doctor Levillier entered. Valentine greeted him warmly. They had not met since the night of the affray with the mastiffs. In Julian's manner there was a touch of awkwardness as he shook hands with the doctor. Levillier did not seem to notice it. He looked very tired and rather depressed.
"Cresswell," he said, "I have come to you for a tonic."
"Doctor coming to patient!"
"Doctors take medicine oftener than you may suppose. I'm in bad spirits to-day. I've been trying to cure too many people lately. It's hard work."