"With my patient," I stammered. "I have been accustomed to hear her spoken of by her Christian name."
"Humph!" the old gentleman grunted, enigmatically.
"She has one of those minds which should be occupied by a succession of lively events, all helping on some desirable object," I proceeded—"the mind of a naturally active woman."
"Well," he answered, "it seems to be another instance of the iniquitous folly of allowing the one sex to impose galling limitations upon the other. It is not an uncommon case so far as the mental symptoms go. How does she get on with her husband? does she contradict him?"
"No, never," I answered. "She is always courteous and considerate."
"Ah, now, I thought so," he chuckled. "A happily married woman contradicts her husband flatly whenever she thinks proper. She knows she is safe from wrangling and bitterness. I think you will find that the domestic position is the difficulty here. You don't seem to have inquired into that very carefully."
I made no answer, and he looked at me sharply for a moment, then asked me how old my patient was.
"Twenty-five," I told him.
"Twenty-five," he repeated; "and you are intimate with both her and her husband. Now, have you ever had any reason to doubt her honesty—her verbal honesty of course I mean?"
"Quite the contrary," I answered. "I have always found her almost peculiarly frank."