"Precisely."
"He is gone!" was the unexpected answer. "He is gone already. If you doubt me, my dear fellow," the doctor added hastily, "ask the servants--ask Daniel."
"Gone, is he?" Woolley said gloomily, considering the statement.
"Yes, he quite saw the propriety of it," the doctor continued. "He gave me no trouble."
"And paid you no fees, I suppose?"
"Well, no, he did not."
"Then now to my second question, sir," Woolley went on, tapping with his fingers on the table. But try as he might, he could not quite rise to the old level of superiority, he could not drive the flush from his cheek or still his pulse. "What is your daughter's answer? From something which has passed between us I conclude it to be unfavourable to me."
"Indeed?" the doctor said, looking at him blankly.
"But, favourable or unfavourable," Woolley continued, "I must have it betimes. You bade me go away and give her a month to think over it. I have done so, and I am back. Now I ask, What is her answer?"
"Well," the doctor said, rubbing his hands in great perplexity, "I have not--I am not sure that I am prepared to say. You must give me a little more time--indeed you must. Let us say until the day after to-morrow. I will sound her and give you a decisive answer then--after breakfast, and here if you like."