And so it was almost inevitable that she should give him his
opportunity at last.
Late one evening she entered his consulting-room where he was busy
writing.
"I want to talk to you," she said. "Is it very inconvenient?"
The doctor leaned back in his chair. "Sit down there," he said,
pointing to one immediately facing him.
She laughed and obeyed, faintly blushing. "I'm not a patient, you
know."
He drew his black brows together. "It's very late. Why don't you go to
bed?"
"Because I want to talk to you."
"You can do that to-morrow," bluntly rejoined Dr. Jim. "You can't
afford to sacrifice your sleep to chatter."
"I am not sacrificing any sleep," Muriel told him rather wearily. "I
never sleep before morning."
He laid down his pen and gave her one of his hard looks. "Then you are
a very silly girl," he said curtly at length.
"It isn't my fault," she protested.
He shrugged his shoulders. "You all say that. It's the most ordinary
lie I know."
Muriel smiled. "I know you are longing to give me something nasty. You
may if you like. I'll take it, whatever it is."
Dr. Jim was silent for a space. He continued to regard her steadily,
with a scrutiny that spared her nothing. She sat quite still under it.
He had never disconcerted her yet. But when he leaned suddenly forward
and took her wrist between his fingers, she made a slight, instinctive
effort to frustrate him.
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