"I shall soon be able to amuse myself," Ronald declared. "There's the guitar, you know, doctor; it's one of the best companions in the world for an invalid. By Jove, Louie, I forgot to ask you if it had got damaged in the smash?"
"What smash?" Doctor Warstone asked.
I was glad that he put the question; it prevented me from answering my husband.
"It was only a cab collision," I replied. "Very little mischief was done. At first I was afraid Ronald would suffer, but he seems to be none the worse for it."
"Are you quite sure you are none the worse for it?" demanded the doctor, looking searchingly at me.
"Do you think she is?" cried Ronald, anxiously. "She did look uncommonly pale afterwards. Louie, if there are any sprains or bruises that you haven't mentioned—"
"I always mention everything," I interrupted, laughing.
Doctor Warstone got up to take his leave, telling Ronald that it was time for him to go to bed. I followed the doctor out into the passage, closing the parlour door behind me.
"What is the matter with you?" he asked. "Nerves out of order? The cab smash must have given you a shake."
"It didn't hurt me. But, oh, doctor, how foolish you will think me!"