He leaned forward, and looked into her eyes searchingly,
with a sort of rapture, of anxiety, too. It recalled something to Cuckoo.
She tried to remember what, but for a moment could not. Then, as if
reassured, he resigned his eager and nervous posture of inquiry. That
second movement brought the light that Cuckoo's puzzled mind sought.
It was Julian who had looked first into her eyes with that strange
watchfulness. These men echoed one another in that glance which she
could not understand. What they sought in her eyes she could not tell.
If it were the same thing it could not be love. And it seemed to be a
thing that they feared to find.
"Doctor Levillier is a great friend of mine," Valentine said. "He is a
famous nerve-doctor. Seeing you hovering about his door led me to suppose
you might be ill, and were going to consult him. I hope you are not ill."
"Not I!"
"Because he is away from home at present."
"Oh!"
"Do you want to see him?"
"I suppose I can see him, like any one else, if I've a mind to."
"Well! He's--he doesn't see quite every one. His practice is only among
the richest and smartest people in town. Some one else might answer your
purpose better."
He spoke suavely, but the words he said cemented Cuckoo's previously
vague thought of trying, perhaps, to see Doctor Levillier into a sudden,
strong determination.
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