For a moment she remained silent, then, face averted, laid her finger on the book beside her.
"That," she said unsteadily.
He read aloud: "Lamour's Disease. A Treatise in sixteen volumes by Ero S. Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H."
"All that?" he asked guiltily.
"I don't know, Mr. Carden. Are you laughing at me? Do you not believe me?" She had turned suddenly to confront him, surprising a humorous glimmer in his eyes.
"I really do not believe I am seriously ill," he said, laughing in spite of her grave eyes.
"Then perhaps you had better read a little about what Lamour describes as the symptoms of this malady," she said sadly.
"Is it fatal?" he inquired.
"Ultimately. That is why I desire to spend my life in studying means to combat it. That is why I desire you so earnestly to place yourself under my observation and let me try."
"Tell me one thing," he said; "is it contagious? Is it infectious? No? Then I don't mind your studying me all you wish, Dr. Hollis. You may take my temperature every ten minutes if you care to. You may observe my pulse every five minutes if you desire. Only please tell me how this is to be accomplished; because, you see, I live in the Sherwood Studio Building, and you live on Madison Avenue."