The most
fascinating sins and sorrows are poured into his ears. What is the last
romance in real life, doctor, that has asked you to treat it medically?
We don't want names and places--we are good children; we only want a
story."
Dr. Wybrow looked at me with a smile.
"It is impossible to persuade ladies," he said, "that we, too,
are father-confessors in our way. The first duty of a doctor, Mrs.
Eyrecourt--"
"Is to cure people, of course," she interposed in her smartest manner.
The doctor answered seriously. "No, indeed. That is only the second
duty. Our first duty is invariably to respect the confidence of our
patients. However," he resumed in his easier tone, "I happen to
have seen a patient to-day, under circumstances which the rules of
professional honor do not forbid me to mention. I don't know, Mrs.
Eyrecourt, whether you will quite like to be introduced to the scene of
the story. The scene is in a madhouse."
Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out with a coquettish little scream, and shook her
fan at the doctor. "No horrors!" she cried.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312