“I do not know, Mrs. Steel, whether—”
She understood his meaning and the significance of his hesitation.
“My husband? Yes—Your opinion will be of interest to him. Let us be frank.”
Dr. Peterson advanced one patent-leather boot, put the forefinger of his right hand under Betty’s chin, and turned her face towards the light. She could see that he was profoundly interested despite his air of shallow smartness. Also that he was somewhat perplexed by the responsibility she had thrust upon him.
“Hum! How long have you noticed the swelling on the lip?”
“Five weeks or more, perhaps longer.”
“The throat?”
She opened her mouth wide. Dr. Peterson peered into it and frowned.
“The rash has been present some days?”
“Yes.”