Desire waited.
"I mean his former love affair," said she when conversation was
again possible.
"His--I don't know," said John weakly.
Desire looked sceptical.
"Don't fancy I want to question you," she said with haughtiness.
"But I don't see how you can help knowing. You are his doctor. And
his friend, too. He must have told you. Didn't he?"
"He mentioned something--er--that is to say--"
"Oh, don't hesitate! Don't fancy that I mind. I don't, of course.
And I am not curious. Although any-one might be curious. I won't ask
you questions. I am only mildly interested. It is entirely for his
own good that I should like to know if she is quite as wonderful as
he thinks. Is she, John?"
"I--I don't know," stammered the wretched John.
Desire nodded patiently.
"You mean you don't know how wonderful he thought her? But did you
think her very wonderful, John?"
"No, I didn't"
"You thought her plain?"
"No, I--I didn't think of her at all."
"You mean that you found her insignificant?"
The doctor made a sound which Desire was pleased to interpret as
assent.
"I'm not surprised," said she earnestly. "Because, from the
description Benis gave, I felt sure he was exaggerating. Not that it
makes any difference, because, if he thought she was like that, what
she really was like didn't matter. That," with plaintive triumph,
"is one of the things I learned today."
The doctor said nothing. It was the only thing which he felt it safe
to say.
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