Cuckoo could be a brazen hussy. A year ago she could
scarcely be anything else. But that love of hers for Julian had, it
seemed, a strange power of undermining old habits. It laid hands upon so
many perceptions, so many emotions, with which it should surely have had
nothing to do, and made subtle inroads upon every dark corner of the
girl's nature. From it came this _ritardando_. For Cuckoo was filled with
a very human dread of exposing Doctor Levillier to misconception by her
appearance in the midst of his patients. Had it been late afternoon
instead of morning her fortitude would certainly have been greater,
and might even have drawn near to impudence. But the clear light of
approaching noontide set her mind blinking with rapid eyelids, and
when she actually gained the street door her discomfort was acute.
As she put up her hand to touch the bell the door opened softly and a
stout Duchess issued forth. Cuckoo didn't know she was a Duchess, but she
quailed before the plethoric glance cast upon her, and her voice was
uneven as she asked for the doctor.
"Have you an appointment, ma'am?" asked Lawler, who did not recognize her
behind her black veil.
"I was asked to come," Cuckoo murmured.
"What name, ma'am?"
"Cuck--Miss Bright.
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