"Pourquoi?" said the doctor as simply as if the original words had been addressed to Mr. Linden himself. "Well, it may be a singular question, for it was singular information. Was it well-founded, Miss Derrick?"
"No—at a venture," said Mr. Linden, with just the sort of air with which a sick person puts in his word and assumes superior knowledge.
The doctor looked at one and at the other; Mr. Linden's face told him nothing, any more than his words; Faith, by this time, was covered with confusion. That at least it might be visible to only one person, she moved back to her former place.
"Were you behind us?" said the doctor;—"or were you French enough to come by invisibly?"
"Is that the last new method?" said Mr. Linden. "You have been in Paris since I was."
"Never got so far as that though, I am sorry to say," said the doctor coming back to the couch. "But after all, that was very vague information—it didn't tell one much—only I have a personal interest in the subject. But I am glad you spoke—the man that can tell the dream should be able to give the interpretation. What did it mean, Linden?"
"Behold a man of an enquiring turn of mind!" said Mr. Linden with the same half listless half amused air. "He asks for truth, and when that tarries demands interpretation."
"I don't know what sort of a man I behold!" said the doctor, moving his eyes with a double expression for an instant from Mr. Linden's arm to his face.
"I should think you were a German student in pursuit of the 'Idea'!" said Mr. Linden taking a quiet survey of the doctor's face. "Have you completed the circle, or is there still hope the Idea may seize you?"
"The idea seized me a good while ago," said the doctor, with a most comical mock confessional look.