The accent was foreign; the tone was low and firm. Her fingers
closed gently, and yet resolutely, on the Doctor's arm.

Neither her language nor her action had the slightest effect in inclining
him to grant her request. The influence that instantly stopped him,
on the way to his carriage, was the silent influence of her face.
The startling contrast between the corpse-like pallor of her
complexion and the overpowering life and light, the glittering
metallic brightness in her large black eyes, held him literally
spell-bound. She was dressed in dark colours, with perfect taste;
she was of middle height, and (apparently) of middle age--say a year
or two over thirty. Her lower features--the nose, mouth, and chin--
possessed the fineness and delicacy of form which is oftener seen
among women of foreign races than among women of English birth.
She was unquestionably a handsome person--with the one serious
drawback of her ghastly complexion, and with the less noticeable
defect of a total want of tenderness in the expression of her eyes.
Apart from his first emotion of surprise, the feeling she produced
in the Doctor may be described as an overpowering feeling of
professional curiosity. The case might prove to be something entirely
new in his professional experience. 'It looks like it,' he thought;
'and it's worth waiting for.'

She perceived that she she had produced a strong impression
of some kind upon him, and dropped her hold on his arm.

'You have comforted many miserable women in your time,' she said.
'Comfort one more, to-day.'

Without waiting to be answered, she led the way back into the room.