ideas wanted expanding, his provincialisms brushed off. She was under the impression she would do great things for Peter one day, let him into her circle; that salon she and Gabriel would hold. Her father should consult him, she would help him to build up a practice.
When he came up, later on, she told him something of her good intentions. They did not interest him very much, it was not service he wanted from her. He heard her night had been good, that she felt rested and better this morning. He had not been told what had disturbed the last one. They were sitting together in the drawing-room, doctor and patient, when the parlourmaid came in with a card. Margaret looked at it and laughed, passed it over to him.
"That's Anne," she said. "Anne evidently thinks I am a hopeful subject."
The card bore the name of "Mrs. Roope, Christian Healer."
"Stay and see her with me," she said to Peter. "It will be almost like a consultation, won't it? … Yes," she told the parlourmaid, "I will see the lady. Let her come up. Now, Peter Kennedy, is opportunity to show your quality, your tact. I expect to be amused, I want to be amused."
Peter was not loath to stay, whatever the excuse.
Mrs. Roope, tall, and dressed something like a hospital nurse, in long flowing cloak and bonnet with
