He was not accustomed to beg thus to be allowed to prescribe for his patients. His one word was law, and he was not required to explain his motives.
Mr. Clyde's eyes followed him; then he broke the prolonged silence.
"Richard, you have asked me the one thing to which her mother would never have consented. How, then, can I?"
"Think it over, John, and let me know."
The two men clasped hands.
"Let me take you along in my cab to the reception; it's inhuman to take out your horses on such a night."
"Thank you, no; I think I'll give it up; I'm not in the mood for it. Good-night, old fellow."
"Good-night, Johnny."
The next morning, at breakfast, the Doctor took up a note that lay beside his plate, and after reading it beamed joyously while he stirred his coffee vigorously without drinking it. When, finally, he looked up, his wife elevated her eyebrows over the top of the coffee urn, and the Doctor laughed.
"To be sure, wifie, read the note." And this is what she read:—
