CLEAR WEATHER
"Damn that mat!" he exclaimed. "I say, Cuckoo, who the—?" The question faded on his lips as he saw Doctor Levillier, on whom he gazed with a vacant surprise that, added to the unsteadiness of his movement upon them, spoke his condition very plainly.
"You, doctor! Well, I'm damned! What are you here for?"
"To see Miss Bright," the doctor said, coolly.
He had pushed forward a chair quickly with his foot. Julian collapsed in it by the table. Beads of the fog lay all over his long greatcoat and upon his hat, which he had not yet taken off. His face was flushed and dull.
"It's an infernal evening," he said. "You doctoring Cuckoo, eh?"
"I have been talking to Miss Bright."
"Oh, all right. I don't mind. Cuckoo, help me off with this coat. There's a good girl."
She obeyed without a word. When the coat was off Julian threw himself back in the chair and heaved a long sigh. His hat fell onto the floor with a bang, but he did not seem to notice it. His face was moody and miserable.
"Molly's thrown me over," he said.