Bella, somewhat impressed by his professional manner, retired, and Frank examined his patient’s face slowly, as though he sought the hidden springs of character. Herbert watched with apprehension the grave man in front of him.
“I don’t think I’ve really got anything much the matter with me; only Miss Langton was anxious.”
“Medical men would starve if they depended only on the diseased,” answered Frank. “You’d better take off your things.”
Herbert reddened at the discomfort of undressing himself before a stranger. The doctor noted the milky whiteness of his skin, and the emaciation of his body, which revealed the entire form of the skeleton; he took the boy’s hand and looked at the long fingers with nails slightly bent over.
“Have you ever spat any blood?”
“No.”
“D’you sweat at night at all?”
“I never used to, but this last week I have a bit.”
“I believe most of your relations are dead, aren’t they?”
“All of them.”