For another
twenty minutes Cuckoo sat alone, glaring at the table by which these
members of her sex had sat, and seeing no material objects but only--as
is the way of humanity--her own point of view. The ladies saw only
theirs. In this respect, at least, they closely resembled the lady of
the feathers. When Lawler at length returned with his grave: "This way,
if you please, ma'am," Cuckoo rose to her feet with the inflexibility
of some iron thing set in motion by mechanism, and marched in his wake
to the doctor's presence.
The doctor was standing up by a bright fire; he looked very grave.
"I am very sorry to have kept you," he said, "very sorry. I did not think
you could get here so quickly."
Cuckoo cleared her throat.
"I wish I hadn't," she answered bluntly.
"Why?"
"It don't matter. I started directly your wire came."
"That was good of you. Please sit down."
Cuckoo sat with a straight back in the straightest chair she could
perceive. The doctor still remained standing by the fire. He appeared
to be thinking deeply. His eyes looked downward at his gaily shining
boots. After a minute or two he said:
"I speak to you now in strict confidence, trusting your secrecy
implicitly."
The back of Cuckoo became less straight.
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