"This is my particular sanctum, Miss Durant; and as I have a reprehensible
habit of night-work, I keep them as a kind of sleeping potion."

Constance glanced about the room with more interest, and as she noticed
the simplicity and the bareness, Swot's remark concerning the doctor's
poverty came back to her. Only many books and innumerable glass bottles, a
microscope, and other still more mysterious instruments, seemed to save it
from the tenement-house, if not, indeed, the prison, aspect.

"Are you wondering how it is possible for any one to live in such a way?"
asked the doctor, as his eyes followed hers about the room.

"If you will have my thought," answered Constance, "it was that I am in
the cave of the modern hermit, who, instead of seeking solitude, because
of the sins of mankind, seeks it that he may do them good."

"We have each had a compliment to-night," replied Dr. Armstrong, his face
lighting up.

The look in his eyes brought something into the girl's thoughts, and with
a slight effort she rose. "I think I am well enough now to relieve you of
my intrusion," she said.

"You will not be allowed to leave the hermit's cell till you have finished
the cracker and the milk," affirmed the man. "I only regret that I can't
keep up the character by offering you locusts and wild honey."

"At least don't think it necessary to stay here with me," said Miss
Durant, as she dutifully began to eat and drink again. "If--oh--the
operation--How is Swot?"