somebody a trifle more interested in you than the janitor to look
after your food and your medicine and all that. I'm going to send you
a nurse."

"Oh, no!" gasped Stanton. "I don't need one! And frankly--I can't
afford one." Shy as a girl, his eyes eluded the doctor's frank stare.
"You see," he explained diffidently; "you see, I'm just engaged to be
married--and though business is fairly good and all that--my being
away from the office six or eight weeks is going to cut like the deuce
into my commissions--and roses cost such a horrid price last Fall--and
there seems to be a game law on diamonds this year; they practically
fine you for buying them, and--"

The Doctor's face brightened irrelevantly. "Is she a Boston young
lady?" he queried.

"Oh, yes," beamed Stanton.

"Good!" said the Doctor. "Then of course she can keep some sort of an
eye on you. I'd like to see her. I'd like to talk with her--give her
just a few general directions as it were."

A flush deeper than any mere love-embarrassment spread suddenly over
Stanton's face.

"She isn't here," he acknowledged with barely analyzable
mortification. "She's just gone south."

"_Just_ gone south?" repeated the Doctor. "You don't mean--since
you've been sick?"