Love is
cant; love is rubbish. Tell me one thing. Is the doctor a friend of
yours?"
"The doctor is nothing of the kind."
"Perhaps he is your enemy?"
"I can hardly say that."
She looked at Hugh discontentedly. "I want to get at it," she said.
"Why can't we understand each other? Will you laugh at me, if I say the
first thing that comes into my head? Are you a good swimmer?"
An extraordinary question, even from Fanny Mere. It was put
seriously--and seriously Mountjoy answered it. He said that he was
considered to be a good swimmer.
"Perhaps," she continued, "you have saved people's lives."
"I have twice been so fortunate as to save lives," he replied.
"If you saw the doctor drowning, would you save him? _I_ wouldn't!"
"Do you hate him as bitterly as that?" Hugh asked.
She passed the question over without notice. "I wish you would help me
to get at it," she persisted. "Suppose you could rid my mistress of
that man by giving him a kick, would you up with your foot and do it?"
"Yes--with pleasure."
"Thank you, sir. Now I've got it. Mr. Mountjoy, the doctor is the curse
of my mistress's life. I can't bear to see it. If we are not relieved
of him somehow, I shall do something wrong.
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