Madge Ellison sat down and chatted for five minutes, while the cat purred under Betty’s hand.
“I saw Kate Murchison in Castle Gate this morning.”
“Alone?”
“No; being convoyed by the Canoness.”
Betty Steel’s mouth curved into a sneer.
“A most respectable connection. Did you see any blue ribbon about?”
“You are rather hard on the poor wretches, Betty.”
“Am I?” and she gave a short, sharp laugh; “every woman sides with her husband—I suppose. You might rub some scent on my forehead, dear.”
Dr. Little finished a cigar, and yawned in turn over every page of the paper before ascending to Mrs. Betty’s room. Madge Ellison opened the door to him. His shoulder brushed her arm as he entered, quite the professional Agag where the patient was a woman and under fifty.
Dr. Little remained some fifteen minutes beside Mrs. Betty’s bed. His air of lazy refinement left him by degrees, giving place to the interested and puzzled alertness of the physician. It was the curious nodular swelling on Parker Steel’s wife’s lip that led him to discover glandular enlargement under her round, white chin.