She smiled at me, very pleasantly, but the little dimple held naught but
mystery. I really think her eyes implied a sort of regret, as if she
wished she could make the ordeal less hard for me.

The waiter brought the oysters, which Dora consumed appreciatively. I was
simply compelled to eat also, lest she should deem me a peevish loser in
the great game I had sought to play. Yet I remember that these Cape Cods
were distinctly hard to swallow, delicious though they probably were.

Suddenly she looked up, and the little oyster impaled on her fork dropped
on the plate.

"There's Taurus!" she exclaimed, with gleaming eyes.

She was looking at a rather tall man, of powerful build, whose abundant
hair was splendidly tinged with silver, and who was coming in with a very
beautiful woman.

"Is that what you nurses call him?" I asked, recognizing one of the great
surgeons of the world.

"Yes," she answered. "Isn't he wonderful? We're all in love with him, the
mean thing."

"Kindly explain the adjective," I urged her. "Is it due to the fact that
he protected himself against the wiles of a host of pretty women by
marrying the sweetest one of the lot--with a single exception--to the
utter despair of the remainder?"

"Did you ever hear him blow up his house-staff?" Dora asked me.