Dolaro," and his probable relation to Julius, fell for a time into the
dim background. The doctor had been calling daily in Carlton Terrace to
see his patient, when, on a certain memorable day, he intimated to her
father that she was so completely recovered that there was no need of
his calling on her professionally again. The old lord, looking a little
flustered, asked him if he could spare a few minutes' conversation, and
led him into his study.
"My dear Lefevre," said he, "I am at a loss how to make you any adequate
return for what you have done for my daughter. Money can't do it; no,
nor my friendship either, though you are so kind as to say so. But I
have an idea, which I think it best to set before you frankly. You are a
bachelor: it is not good to be a bachelor," he went on, laying his hand
affectionately on the doctor's arm, and flushing--old man of the world
though he was--flushing to the eyes. "What--what do you think of my
daughter? I mean, not as a doctor, but as a man?"
Lefevre was not in his first youth, and he had had his admirations for
women in his time, as all healthy men must have, but yet he was made as
deliriously dizzy as if he were a boy by his guess at what Lord
Rivercourt meant.
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