herself; and at that Juliana looked frightened and begged that Mrs. Moon
would do nothing of the kind. "There will be no charge for friendly
visits," said she; and she made a rapid calculation in the top of her
head. Nineteen visits at, say, seven-and-six a visit, would come to
exactly nine pounds nine and sixpence. And she smiled; possibly she
thought it was worth it.

And really those friendly visits had sometimes an ambiguous character; he
dragged his profession into them by the head and shoulders. He had left
off scribbling prescriptions, but he would tell her what to take in a
light and literary way, as if it was just part of their very interesting
conversation. Browning was bitter and bracing, he was like iron and
quinine, and by the way she had better take a little of both. Then when
he met her again he would ask, "Have you been taking any more Browning,
Miss Quincey?" and while Miss Quincey owned with a blush that she had, he
would look at her and say she wanted a change--a little Tennyson and a
lighter tonic; strychnine and arsenic was the thing.

And Mrs. Moon still wondered. "I never saw anything like the indelicacy
of that young man," said she. "You're running up a pretty long bill, I
can tell you."

Oh, yes, a long, long bill; for we pay heavily for our pleasures in this
sad world, Juliana!




CHAPTER VI