Betty was holding Mignon’s head between her two hands, and looking into the cat’s yellow eyes. Something in the intonation of Dr. Little’s voice seemed to startle her. She glanced up at him with a questioning smile.
“I expect him back in a week or so. Madge, get me that letter, dear. I think he said next Wednesday. Is there anything—?”
Little had moved towards the door.
“I only wanted to know the date. I promised some months ago to do locum work for an old friend next week.”
Betty had glanced through her husband’s letter. She laid it aside when Dr. Little had gone, and took Mignon back into her lap.
“That man’s worried about something, Madge,” she said.
“Worried, not a bit of it, dear.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not in the bachelor nature to worry, provided food is plentiful and work slack. Pins wouldn’t prick him. They’re selfish beasts.”
“I thought you liked the man, Madge.”