towards the door. He watched her, leaning a little forward in his
chair, his lips parted, his eyes threatening. She walked with
steady, even footsteps. She carried herself with almost machine-like
erectness; her skirts were noiseless. She had the trick of turning
the handle of the door in perfect silence. He heard her calm voice
in the hall.

"Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin."

Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse.

"That woman," he muttered to himself, "that--woman--some day I
shouldn't be surprised if she really--"

He paused. The doctor had entered the room.

"I am upset, Sarson," he declared. "Come and feel my pulse quickly.
That woman has upset me."

"Miss Price?"

"Miss Price, d-n it! Lucy--yes!"

"It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. "I have never heard her
utter a useless syllable in my life."

Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist.

"It's what she doesn't say," he muttered.