Standing on the doorstep, she had histrionically
simulated faintness for the special benefit of Lawler, who regarded
her with deep suspicion.
"I suppose I must see her," the doctor said with a sigh. "Show her in,
Lawler."
Lawler departed, disapprovingly, to do so, and after a moment the doctor
followed him. He walked into his consulting-room, where he found the lady
of the feathers standing by the writing table. The autumn day was growing
dark, and the street was full of deepening mist. Cuckoo was but a
fantastic shadow in the room. Her dress rustled with an uneasy sound
as the doctor came in. His first act was to turn on the electric light.
In a flash the rustling shadow was converted into substance. Cuckoo and
the doctor stood face to face, and Cuckoo's tired eyes fastened with a
hungry, almost a wolfish, scrutiny upon this stranger. She wanted so much
of him. The look was so full of intense meaning that, coming in a flash
with the electric flash, it startled the doctor. Yet he had seen
something like it before in the eyes of those who suspected that they
carried death within them, and came to ask him if it were true. He was
surprised, too, by her appearance. The women of the streets did not come
to him, although if they had been able to read the writing in his heart
many of them would surely have come.
Pages:
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452