Part 43 (1/2)

”No.”

”Quite sure? I have always observed that people who are in love are desperately offended at the bare supposition that such a thing is possible. Things might be arranged, you know. Young women aren't intended by nature to live single any more than you are. Would a few weeks in London meet the case? The season's just beginning. No theatres, of course, and no late hours. Your brother here seems made of money, though he will soon be ruined if he goes on sending for me. For I always charge double if I'm sent for unnecessarily. Come, sir, what _do_ you want?”

”I don't know,” said Michael, half amused. He was still exhausted by his expedition to Priesthope of the previous day. ”I don't want anything, thanks. I'm--all right.”

”What do you say to a change?”

”I had not thought of that,” said Michael with a flicker of interest.

”Now you mention it--yes. That's the very thing. I should like--a change.”

Wentworth came forward at once.

”Norway?” he said eagerly, ”or Switzerland. We must be guided by you, doctor. Or a yacht? You used to be fond of yachting, Michael. We will go anywhere you like.”

Michael's face fell.

The doctor leaned back and examined his finger tips. He had seen what he wanted.

”The yacht won't do,” he said with decision. ”And Norway's out of the question. Much too far. In fact, there's only one place that will do.”

”Where is that?” said Wentworth.

”I don't know yet. Where is it, Mr. Carstairs?”

”I should like,” said Michael, colouring painfully, for he knew he was going to hurt Wentworth, ”I should like to go to Lostford; not for long, just for a little bit.”

”Lostford!” exclaimed Wentworth, amazed. ”Lostford, down in that hole.

Oh! no.”

”Well, and why not Lostford?” said the doctor with asperity. ”Mr.

Carstairs shows his sense. He is not up to a long journey. Quite near.

Interesting cathedral. Cultivated society. I should have suggested Lostford myself if he had not.”

”I will ride over and take rooms at the 'Prince Consort' to-day,” said Wentworth meekly.

”You will do no such thing. Are you taking leave of your senses. Your brother is not fit to stay in a rackety hotel.”

”The Bishop has asked me,” said Michael faintly, ”to spend a week or two with him whenever I like. I believe--it's very quiet there.”

”The Bishop!” said Wentworth. ”It would be far from quiet at the Palace.

Worse than an hotel. The Bishop lives in a perpetual turmoil.”

Then he suddenly stopped short, and became very red. Michael preferred the Bishop to himself.

”It's a good idea,” said the doctor. ”I know the Bishop. Splendid man.

The best of company.” He got up with decision. ”My orders are, Mr.

Carstairs, that you proceed to Lostford without delay. How far is it?

Six miles. Go to-morrow.” Then he turned to Wentworth. ”You will go over and see him in a week's time, and report to me.”