“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face.
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