Part 12 (2/2)
”Not the advice I want,” he responded, gravely. ”It's a very solemn thing for me, I can a.s.sure you.”
”And what is this very solemn thing?” she inquired, airily.
”It's marriage,” he answered. ”I've got to get married, and--and--”
”Don't let's go back to that again,” she said, with frank impatience. ”I thought we had settled that once for all.”
”Oh, I didn't mean you,” he returned, apologetically.
”You didn't mean me?” she repeated, in amazement. ”Why, I thought--well, it's no matter what I thought, of course.”
”I'm afraid I'm getting things all mixed up,” he said, calmly. ”Of course, you are the only woman I love, and the only woman I ever shall love. I told you that the last time we met, and you told me that you didn't love me--so that settled it.”
”Well?” she interrogated.
”Well, if I can't have what I want,” he explained, ”I'd better get what I need.”
”I confess I do not know what you are talking about,” she declared.
”It's simple enough,” he returned. ”I'm a doctor, and I'm young--I'm only thirty--and I haven't a bald spot yet, so people think I'm even younger than I am, and they haven't confidence in it. So I've got to get married.”
The girl laughed out merrily. ”Can't you get a bald spot any other way?”
she asked.
”If I have a wife I don't need a bald spot,” he responded. ”A wife is a warrant of respectability. Every doctor will tell you that's the way patients feel. I'm tired of going to see some old woman for Dr. Cheever, and sending up my card and overhearing her say: 'I won't see him! I don't want Dr. Demarest! I sent for Dr. Cheever, and it's Dr. Cheever I want to see!' That has happened to me, and not only once or twice, either.”
”How could any woman be so unlady-like?” the girl asked, indignantly.
”She must have been a vulgar old thing!”
”There's more than one of her in New York,” the young doctor a.s.serted, ”and that's one reason why I've got to get married. And between you and me, I think my chance of staying with Dr. Cheever would be better if I had a wife. Of course, he doesn't say so, but I can't help knowing what he thinks.”
The girl made no comment on this, and they rode along side by side. They were now on the crest of a hill, and they overlooked the broad expanse of the reservoir. The almost level rays of the sinking sun thrust themselves through the leafy branches and made a rosy halo about her fair head.
”So that's why I've come to you for advice,” he began again.
”But I don't see what good my advice will be to you,” she returned. ”You don't expect me to pick out a wife for you, do you?”
”Well, that's about it!” he admitted.
”The idea!” she retorted. ”Why, it's perfectly absurd!”
”So long as I cannot get the girl I love, marriage ceases to be a matter of sentiment with me,” he went on, stolidly. ”I come to you as a friend who knows girls--knows them in a way no man can ever know them. I want your help in selecting a woman who will make a good wife for a doctor.”
”How do you know she will have you?” she thrust at him.
”Of course, I don't know,” he admitted. ”I can't know till I try, can I?
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