“Much pain in the eyes, Miss Pennington?”
“Oh, Dr. Murchison, the pain is terrible, it runs all over the face; you cannot conceive—”
She broke away into a chaos of complaints till Murchison quieted her and asked a few simple questions. He rose, turned the sofa bodily towards the light, and proceeded to examine the lady’s eyes.
“Things look dim to you?” he asked her, quietly.
“All in a blur, flashes of light, and spots like blood. I’m sure—”
“Yes, yes. You have never had anything quite like this before?”
“Never, never. I am quite unnerved, Dr. Murchison, and Dr. Steel won’t believe half the things I tell him.”
Her voice was peevish and irritable. Parker Steel grinned at the remark, and muttered “mad cat” under his breath.
“You are hardly kind to me, Miss Pennington,” he said, aloud, with a touch of banter.
“I’m sure I’m ill, Dr. Steel, very ill—”