"I have begun by making myself agreeable to your wife," the doctor
remarked with a self-approving grin. "Perhaps she will dine with us
to-morrow. Pass the sherry."
The remembrance of what had happened at the breakfast-table, that
morning, seemed to be dwelling disagreeably on Lord Harry's mind. He
said but little--and that little related to the subject on which he had
already written, at full length, to his medical friend.
In an interval, when the service of the table required the attendance
of Fanny in the kitchen, Mr. Vimpany took the opportunity of saying a
few cheering words. He had come (he remarked) prepared with the right
sort of remedy for an ailing state of mind, and he would explain
himself at a fitter opportunity. Lord Harry impatiently asked why the
explanation was deferred. If the presence of the maid was the obstacle
which caused delay, it would be easy to tell her that she was not
wanted to wait.
The wary doctor positively forbade this.
He had observed Fanny, during his previous visit, and had discovered
that she seemed to distrust him. The woman was sly and suspicious.
Since they had sat down to dinner, it was easy to see that she was
lingering in the room to listen to the conversation, on one pretence or
another.
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