rug. For some years now Dr. Lanskell had no longer practised: at most, he continued to go to a few old patients, and to give consultations in “difficult” cases. But he remained a power in his former kingdom, a sort of lay Pope or medical Elder to whom the patients he had once healed of physical ills often returned for moral medicine. People were agreed that Dr. Lanskell’s judgment was{143} sound; but what secretly drew them to him was the fact that, in the most totem-ridden of communities, he was known not to be afraid of anything.
{143}
Now, as Delia sat and watched his massive silver-headed figure moving ponderously about the room, between rows of medical books in calf bindings and the Dying Gladiators and Young Augustuses of grateful patients, she already felt the reassurance given by his mere bodily presence.
“You see, when I first took Tina I didn’t perhaps consider sufficiently—”
The Doctor halted behind his desk and brought his fist down on it with a genial thump. “Thank goodness you didn’t! There are considerers enough in this town without you, Delia Lovell.”
She looked up quickly. “Why do you call me Delia Lovell?{144}”
{144}
“Well, because today I rather suspect you are,” he rejoined astutely; and she met this with a wistful laugh.
“Perhaps, if I hadn’t been, once before—I mean, if I’d always been a prudent deliberate Ralston it would have been kinder to Tina in the end.”
Dr. Lanskell sank his gouty bulk into the armchair behind his desk, and beamed at her through ironic spectacles. “I hate in-the-end kindnesses: they’re about as nourishing as the third day of cold mutton.”
She pondered. “Of course I realize that if I adopt Tina—”
“Yes?”
“Well, people will say....” A deep blush rose to her throat, covered her cheeks and brow, and ran like fire under her decently-parted hair.
He nodded: “Yes.{145}”
{145}
Prev.
Back
Top