"Does she like it?"
"She is very comfortable."
"Derry says that his father is an old dear."
"He would think so, naturally."
There were things about the General's case which were troubling Dr. McKenzie, and of which he could not speak. The old man had, undoubtedly been given something to drink on Thanksgiving Day.
Hilda had had strict orders, and the day nurse, and the only other person who had had access to the General's room was Bronson. He had made up his mind to speak to Derry about Bronson.
The meal progressed rather silently. The Doctor was preoccupied, taciturn. Miss Emily made futile efforts at conversation. Jean dallied with her dinner.
"My dear," the Doctor commented as she pushed away her salad, "you can't live on love."
"I'm not hungry. We had tea at the Club. Drusilla was there—and—we told her."
"Told her what?"