“Isn’t Mrs. Fletcher satisfied with me?” he barked. “I’ve attended Mrs. Fletcher since she was born. Why aren’t I good enough to attend her filthy brat?”
The little girl looked for a moment as though she were going to cry, then she thought better of it; she put out her tongue deliberately at Doctor South, and, before he could recover from his astonishment, bolted off as fast as she could run. Philip saw that the old gentleman was annoyed.
“You look rather fagged, and it’s a goodish way to Ivy Lane,” he said, by way of giving him an excuse not to go himself.
Doctor South gave a low snarl.
“It’s a damned sight nearer for a man who’s got the use of both legs than for a man who’s only got one and a half.”
Philip reddened and stood silent for a while.
“Do you wish me to go or will you go yourself?” he said at last frigidly.
“What’s the good of my going? They want you.”
Philip took up his hat and went to see the patient. It was hard upon eight o’clock when he came back. Doctor South was standing in the dining-room with his back to the fireplace.
“You’ve been a long time,” he said.