She put the photograph down, and looked round the room.
"Where does that door lead to?" she asked, indicating one opposite.
"Into my study."
"Then you do not study in the library?"
"No. I read here for relaxation. When I want to work I go in there."
"Let me see where you work?"
I hesitated, for I kept my tools there, and I did not know what might be about.
"It is professional work I do there," I said.
She was quick to see my meaning: "Oh, in that case," she began apologetically. "I am indiscreet, forgive me. I have not realized your position yet, you see. It is so anomalous being both a doctor and a country gentleman. But what a dear old place this is! I cannot think how you can mix up medical pursuits with the names of your ancestors. Were I you I should belong to the Psychical Society only. The material for that kind of research lingers long in these deep recesses. It is built up in thick walls, and concealed behind oak panels. Oh, how can you be a doctor here!"
"I am not a doctor, here," I assured her, "at least only in the morning when I make this my consulting room."