him in the hall, described as being all there was possible of ugliness,
delivered (with a request for an immediate answer) the following note for
Mary Arkroyd:

DEAR DR. ARKROYD:

Mr. Saffron is unwell, and I have insisted that he must see a doctor. So
much he has yielded, after a fight! But nothing will induce him to see
Dr. Irechester again. On this point I tried to reason with him, but in
vain. He is obstinate and resolved. I am afraid that I am putting you in
a difficult and disagreeable position, but it seems to me that I have no
alternative but to ask you to call on him professionally. I hope that Dr.
Irechester will not be hurt by a whim which is, no doubt, itself merely a
symptom of disordered nerves, for Dr. Irechester has been most attentive
and very successful hitherto in dealing with the dear old gentleman. But
my first duty is to Mr. Saffron. If it will ease matters at all, pray
hold yourself at liberty to show this note to Dr. Irechester. May I beg
you to be kind enough to call at your earliest convenience, though it is,
alas, a rough evening to ask you to come out?

Yours very faithfully,

HECTOR BEAUMAROY.

"How very awkward!" exclaimed Mary. She had prided herself on a
rigorous abstention from "poaching"; she fancied that men were very
ready to accuse women of not "playing the game" and had been resolved
to give no color to such an accusation. "Mr. Saffron has sent for
me--professionally. He's ill, it seems," she said to Cynthia.