"I'm always with him when I'm not with you, for I haven't seen the doctor for ages."
"The doctor! Who's that, then," asked Cuckoo.
"Doctor Levillier. Surely you've heard me talk about him."
"No, dearie."
"Oh, he's a nerve-doctor, and a sort of little saint, lives for his work, and is a deuced religious chap, never does anything, you know."
Julian looked at her.
"Oh," she said.
"And believes in everything. He's a dear little chap, the kindest heart in the world, good to every one, no matter who it is. He's devoted to Valentine."
"Eh?" said Cuckoo, with a long-drawn intonation of astonishment.
"I say he's devoted to Valentine," Julian repeated rather irritably. His temper was much less certain and sunny lately than of old. "But I believe he's devoted to every one he can do any good to. We used to see him continually, but he's been abroad for weeks, looking after a bad case, a Russian Grand Duke in Italy, who would have him, and pays him all the fees he'd be getting in London. He'll be coming back directly, I think."