she's always gurgling inside like waterworks. I wonder how old Dixon can
stand it."

"I like 'ounces of spirit,'" said Lucian. "That's taking it medicinally,
I suppose. I've often heard of ladies who have to 'take it medicinally';
and that's how it's done?"

"That's it. 'Dr Burrows won't _listen_ to me': 'I tell him how I dislike
the taste of spirits, but he says they are absolutely _necessary_ for my
constitution': 'my medical man _insists_ on something at bedtime'; that's
the style."

Lucian laughed gently; all these people had become indifferent to him; he
could no longer feel savage indignation at their little hypocrisies and
malignancies. Their voices uttering calumny, and morality, and futility
had become like the thin shrill angry note of a gnat on a summer evening;
he had his own thoughts and his own life, and he passed on without
heeding.

"You come down to Caermaen pretty often, don't you?" said the doctor.
"I've seen you two or three times in the last fortnight."

"Yes, I enjoy the walk."

"Well, look me up whenever you like, you know. I am often in just at this
time, and a chat with a human being isn't bad, now and then. It's a
change for me; I'm often afraid I shall lose my patients."

The doctor had the weakness of these terrible puns, dragged headlong into
the conversation. He sometimes exhibited them before Mrs. Gervase, who