“Not at all. Walk.”
“But when it rains?”
“Run.”
Eagerness died out of Louise Ennis’s face. “Oh, I know,” she said pettishly. “It’s that old, old exercise treatment. Well, I’ve tried that, and if you think—”
She stopped in surprise, for Dr. Strong, walking over to the door, held the portière aside.
“After you,” he said courteously.
“Is that all the advice you have for me?” she persisted.
“After you,” he repeated.
“Well, I’m sorry,” she said sulkily. “What is it you want me—”
“Pardon me,” he interrupted in uncompromising tones. “I am sure they are waiting for us in the other room.”