"
There were things about the General's case which were troubling Dr.
McKenzie, and of which he could not speak. The old man had,
undoubtedly been given something to drink on Thanksgiving Day.
Hilda had had strict orders, and the day nurse, and the only other
person who had had access to the General's room was Bronson. He had
made up his mind to speak to Derry about Bronson.
The meal progressed rather silently. The Doctor was preoccupied,
taciturn. Miss Emily made futile efforts at conversation. Jean
dallied with her dinner.
"My dear," the Doctor commented as she pushed away her salad, "you
can't live on love."
"I'm not hungry. We had tea at the Club. Drusilla was there--and--we
told her."
"Told her what?"
Blushing furiously, "That Derry and I are going to be--married."
"But you are not. Not for months. If that cub thinks he can carry you
off from under my eyes he is mistaken. You've got to get acquainted
with each other--I have seen too many unhappy marriages."
"But we are not going to be unhappy, Daddy."
"How do you know?"
Her cheeks were blazing. Miss Emily interposed.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184