“Well, I have reconsidered my decision, and I think that in the circumstances you had better not see my brother, after all.”
“Not see your brother!” I exclaimed, surprised.
“No. I—I’m awfully sorry to have brought you out here so far, but if you will allow me to get out I can walk home and you can drive back.”
“Certainly not,” I answered. “Now I’m so close to your house I’ll see your brother. I can no doubt relieve his pain, and for that he would probably be thankful.”
“No,” she said, involuntarily laying her hand upon my sleeve, “I cannot allow you to accompany me farther;” and I felt her hand tremble.
Surely there is no accounting for the working of a woman’s mind, but I certainly believed her to be devoid of any such caprice as this.
I argued with her that if her brother were in pain it was only right that I should do what I could to relieve him. But she firmly shook her head.
“Forgive me, doctor,” she urged anxiously. “I know you must think me absurdly whimsical, but this decision is not the outcome of any mere whim, I assure you. I have a reason why I absolutely insist upon us parting here.”
“Well, of course, if you really deny me the privilege of accompanying you as far as your house I can do nothing but submit,” I said very disappointedly. “I shall tell Dr. Whitworth of your call. What name shall I give him?”
“Miss Bristowe.”