No doubt they
have gone back to their lines to get a meal."
The Doctor had not been long at his post when Isobel Hannay came
up onto the terrace. They had seen each other alone comparatively
little of late, as the Doctor had given up his habit of dropping
in for a chat in the morning since their conversation about Bathurst.
"Well, my dear, what is it?" he asked. "This is no place for you,
for there are a few fellows still lurking among the trees, and they
send a shot over the house occasionally."
"I came up to say that I am sorry, Doctor."
"That is right, Isobel. Always say you are sorry when you are so,
although in nine cases out of ten, and this is one of them, the
saying so is too late to do much good."
"I think you are rather hard upon me, Doctor. I know you were
speaking at me today when you were talking to the others, especially
in what you said at the end."
"Perhaps I was; but I think you quite deserved it."
"Yes, I know I did; but it was hard to tell me it was as contemptible
to despise a man for a physical weakness he could not help, as to
despise one for being born humpbacked or a cripple, when you know
that my brother was so."
"I wanted you to feel that your conduct had been contemptible,
Isobel, and I put it in the way that was most likely to come home
to you. I have been disappointed in you. I thought you were more
sensible than the run of young women, and I found out that you
were not. I thought you had some confidence in my judgment, but it
turned out that you had not.
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