"What have I got, in Heaven's name?" he said thickly, the thermometer wiggling in his mouth.
"Ah!" she exclaimed with soft enthusiasm, clasping her pretty ungloved hands, "I cannot be sure yet—I dare not be too sanguine—"
"Do you mean that you want me to have something queer?" he blurted out, while the thermometer wiggled with every word he uttered.
"N-no, of course, I don't want you to be ill," she said hastily. "Only, if you are ill it will be a wonderful thing for me. I mean—a—that I am intensely interested in certain symptoms which—"
She gently withdrew the glass tube from his lips and examined it carefully.
"Is there anything the matter?" he insisted, looking at the instrument over her shoulder.
She did not reply; pure excitement rendered her speechless.
"I seem to feel all right," he added uneasily. "If you really believe that there's anything wrong with me, I'll stop in to see my doctor."
"Your doctor!" she repeated, appalled.
"Yes, certainly. Why not?"