was beyond him. A perverse instinct in him said, as if in words,
Beware how you believe in her!

'I have already given you my opinion,' he said. 'There is no sign
of your intellect being deranged, or being likely to be deranged,
that medical science can discover--as I understand it.
As for the impressions you have confided to me, I can only say
that yours is a case (as I venture to think) for spiritual
rather than for medical advice. Of one thing be assured:
what you have said to me in this room shall not pass out of it.
Your confession is safe in my keeping.'

She heard him, with a certain dogged resignation, to the end.

'Is that all?' she asked.

'That is all,' he answered.

She put a little paper packet of money on the table.
'Thank you, sir. There is your fee.'

With those words she rose. Her wild black eyes looked upward,
with an expression of despair so defiant and so horrible in its silent
agony that the Doctor turned away his head, unable to endure the sight
of it. The bare idea of taking anything from her--not money only,
but anything even that she had touched--suddenly revolted him.
Still without looking at her, he said, 'Take it back; I don't want
my fee.'

She neither heeded nor heard him. Still looking upward, she said