"No, there you are right," he answered with emphasis. "Sane men do not,
can never, I believe, change so utterly."
"That's what I say. I've seen men go down, lots of 'em, but it ain't like
that."
Cuckoo spoke with some authority, as of one speaking from depths of a
deep experience. She put her hands under the warm rug with a sensation of
something that was like dignity of mind. She and the doctor were talking
on equal terms of intellectuality just at this moment. She was saying
sensible things and he was obliged to agree with her.
"Not like that," she murmured again out of the embrace of the rug.
He turned towards her so that he could see her more distinctly and make
his words more impressive.
"Remember now that what I am going to say to you must not be mentioned
to Julian on any account, or to any one," he said.
"I'll remember. Honour. I'll never tell."
"I have a very sad theory to explain this great change in Mr. Cresswell,
from what he was as I knew him, and you must take his beauty of character
from me--to what he is as you and I know him now. I believe that he has
become mad." For the doctor had resolutely put away from his mind the
fancies called up in it by the visit of Marr's wife.
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