“You mean that I am wanting in delicacy in thrusting myself into your mutual grief?”

He spoke very simply, very quietly, but there was a note in his voice of inflexible determination.

“I don’t wish to say that,” she answered.

And her voice was harder than his.

“But I’m afraid you think it.  I’ll be frank with you, Mrs. Armine.  Here is my friend, ill, isolated from medical help—­”

“For the moment only.”

“Isolated for the moment from medical help in a very lonely place—­”

“My dear doctor!” She raised her narrow eyebrows.  “To hear you talk, one would think we were at the end of the world instead of in the very midst of civilization and people.”

“And here, by chance”—­he saw her mouth set itself in a grimness which made her look suddenly middle-aged—­“by chance, am I, an old acquaintance, a good friend, and, if I may say so of myself, a well-known medical man.  Is it not natural if I come to see how the sick man is?”

“Oh, quite; and I’ve told you how he is.”

“Isn’t it natural if I ask to see the sick man himself?”

Her mouth went suddenly awry.  She pressed her hand on a cushion.  “No, I don’t think it is when his wife asked you not to come to see him, because it would upset him, and because he had specially told her that for two or three weeks he wished to see nobody.”

“Are you quite sure your husband wouldn’t wish to see me?”

“He doesn’t wish to see anybody for a few days.”

“Are you quite sure that if he knew I was here he wouldn’t wish to see me?”

“How on earth can one be quite sure of what other people would think, or want, if this, or that, or the other?”

“Then why not find out?”

“Find out?”

“By asking.  I certainly am not the man to force myself upon a friend against his will.  But I should be very much obliged to you if you would tell your husband I’m here, and ask him whether he wouldn’t like to see me.”

“You really wish me to wake an invalid up in the dead of night, just as he’s been got off to sleep, in order to receive a visitor!  Well, then, I flatly refuse.”

“Oh, if he is really asleep!”

“I told you that just before you arrived I had been playing the piano to him and that he had fallen asleep.  I don’t think you are very considerate this evening, Doctor Isaacson.”

She got up.

“A doctor, I think, ought to know better.”

The little pulse in her eyelid was beating furiously.

He stood up, too.

“A doctor,” he said, very quietly, “I think does know better than one who is not a doctor how to treat a sick man.  What you said to me in the temple this morning, and what I heard when I was in Cairo and at Luxor before I came up the river, has alarmed me about my friend, and I must request to be allowed to see him.”

“At Cairo and Luxor!  What did you hear at Cairo and Luxor?”