"That's it. How you can put it, doctor! You're right; it is, and there's my hand."

"Mr Poynter," said the doctor, drawing himself up in his chair, and without taking the extended hand, "that is a matter upon which I am not prepared to speak."

"Why, you're her father, ain't you?"

"Does my daughter sanction this?"

"Well--er--yes--no--hardly, because I've never put it to her plump. But you know what women are--sealskins, a carriage, bit o' jewellery, _and_ their own way. Why, of course she does; did you ever know a woman as didn't want to marry? They often say so, but--you know. There, say the word: I'll just go in and see her, and it'll be a good job for all of us, and I shall go away with the day fixed."

"No, Mr Poynter," said the doctor gravely; "I have been a medical man for thirty years--a great student, but I must frankly confess that I do _not_ know what women are. As to my daughter, she is of an age to judge for herself, and when she accepts a man for her husband--"

"I say, hold hard; there's nothing on, is there?"

"You have told me that you love my child."

"Like all that, doctor. But you know what I mean: old lover, prior attachment, and that sort of thing."

"As far as I know, there has never been any attachment. Richmond is not like most girls."

"Right doctor. She isn't. That fetched me. Why, in her plain shabby things--"

The doctor winced. "She knocks my sister into fits, and Lyddy spends two-fifty a year in dressmaking and millinery, without counting jewellery and scent."

"I may say," continued the doctor, "that my daughter has always devoted herself to her brother and me."

"Oh, yes, doctor, I've spotted that," said the visitor, smoking furiously.

"And I have never seen any sign of an attachment. I once thought that there was a liking between her and young Mark Heath."

"What, brother to that Miss Janet who comes here?" cried Poynter eagerly.

"The same; but that was years ago."

"And he's abroad, isn't he?"

"He went to the Cape--to seek his fortune," said the doctor gravely; "but he has not been heard of now for two years."

"Dead, safe!" said Poynter, drawing a breath full of relief.

"I'm afraid so."

"Afraid?"

"It would be sad if the young man had ended his career like that."

"Of course. But they weren't engaged?"

"Certainly not, Mr Poynter."

"And you've no objection to me, doctor?"

"N-no--I--that is, Mr Poynter, I look upon this as a matter for my daughter to decide."

"Of course, doctor. Well, I'll just finish my cigar and grog, and then I'll go and put it to her, plump and plain; and, as I said before, it'll be a fine day's work for us all."

The doctor sighed.

"I say, you know," continued his visitor, with the wrinkles coming about his eyes, "it was all a dodge of mine."

"I beg your pardon."

"There wasn't anything the matter with me when I came."

"Nothing whatever," said the doctor, nodding acquiescence.

"What! you knew that?"

"Of course I did. I looked upon it as all imaginary."

"But you took the fees, doctor?" said the young man, laughing.

"You took up my time."

"But I say, doctor, isn't that too bad?"

"Not at all. My dear sir, the medical profession. Won't I be a poor one if we had no patients with imaginary ills. We treat them; they think we do them good; and they grow better. Surely we earn our fees."

"Oh, but, doctor," said the young man jocularly, "why not honestly tell them they are all right, instead of taking their coin?"

"Because if we did they would not believe us, and would go to some other medical man."

"Then you knew I was all right?"

"Certainly I did."

"And made me up that wretched physic to take."

"You would not have been satisfied without."

"Ah, well," said the young man, with a chuckle which resulted in his wiping his eyes with his highly scented handkerchief, "I never took a drop."

"I know that too," said the doctor.

"Ah, well; we understand one another now, and I'd better go."

James Poynter, however, seemed to be in no hurry to go, but sipped his brandy-and-water, smoked his cigar down to the throwing-away length, and then brought out from his vest-pocket an amber and meerschaum mouthpiece, tipped with gold, into which he fitted the wet end of the cigar, and smoked till he could smoke no longer, when he rose, flush-faced, and with the dew upon his forehead.

"I suppose I must go and get it done, doctor," he said; "but it's rather a--well, it makes a man feel--I say, doctor, what is there in a pretty woman that makes a man feel half afraid of her, like?"