"Needed them--in what way?"

"I mean--er--wouldn't it be better for her if she went to them? A
winter at Saranac--or better still, a longer summer at the camp--if
there is to be a camp. In that case her father would not leave her
alone; there would be less chance, too, of his insisting on your being
there--should you refuse. At least that would be a reason for his
spending as much time as possible in camp with Margaret, and you might
run up occasionally. I'm merely speaking in a purely professional way,
of course," he added.

A sudden pallor crept over her face.

"And you really believe Margaret to be delicate?" she asked in a
trembling voice full of sudden apprehension.

Sperry regained his seat, his manner lapsing into one that he assumed
at serious consultations.

"I am a pretty good diagnostician," he went on, satisfied with the
impression he had made. "Don't think me brutal in what I am going to
say, but I've watched that young daughter of yours lately. New York is
not the place for her."

"You don't mean her lungs?" she asked in a barely audible tone.

The doctor nodded.

"Not seriously, of course, my dear friend--really not that sort of