Olga, however, was not prepared to yield on this point at least.  She had brought him against her will, and she meant to forget him if possible.  But it was not long before Violet had extracted from her an account of the discussion that had resulted in Mitchel’s unwilling presence.  She was not very anxious to supply the information, but Violet was insistent and soon possessed herself of the full details of the argument which she seemed to find highly amusing.

“Oh, my dear, he’s in love with me of course!” she said “I discovered that the first night I was with you.  Hence his solicitude.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” said Olga.

“What!  You haven’t noticed it?  My dear child, where are your eyes?  Haven’t you seen the way he watches me?”

Yes, Olga had seen it; but somehow she did not think it meant that.  She said so rather hesitatingly.

“What else could it mean?” laughed Violet.  “But you needn’t be afraid, dear.  I’m not going to have him.  He’s much too anatomical for me, too business-like and professional altogether.  I’d sooner die than have him attend me.”

“Would you?” said Olga.  “But why?  He’s very clever.”

“That’s just it.  He’s too clever to have any imagination.  He would be quite unscrupulous, quite merciless, and utterly without sympathy.  Can’t you picture him making you endure any amount of torture just to enable him to say he had cured you?  Oh yes, he’s diabolically clever, but he is cruel too.  He would take the shortest cut, whatever it meant.  He wouldn’t care what agony he inflicted so long as he gained his end and made you live.”

“I don’t think he is quite so callous as that,” Olga said, but even as she said it she wondered.

“You will if he ever has to doctor you,” rejoined Violet.  “I wonder what Mrs. Briggs thought of him.  We’ll find out to-day.”

Mrs. Briggs was the daughter of the old woman who had died the preceding week at “The Ship Inn,” whither they were bound that morning.  She had nursed Violet in her infancy, and was a privileged acquaintance of both girls.

They found her busy pastry-making, for the business of the establishment had not been suspended during her recent troubles.  She greeted them both hospitably, though not without a hint of reproach, which found expression in words when she had come to the end of a detailed account of the funeral.

“I thought you’d ‘a’ been round long ago,” she said.  “Your flowers was lovely, Miss Olga.  You ought to ‘a’ seen ’em a-layin’ on pore mother.  I made sure as you’d want to.  And you too, Miss Violet.  I kept the coffin open till the very last minute, thinkin’ as you’d come.”

“That was very sweet of you, Mrs. Briggs,” said Violet.  “It was all Dr. Wyndham’s fault that we didn’t.  I’m staying there, you know, and whatever he says is law.  I’m sure I don’t know why, but there it is.”