Anthony Hope

“ It seemed an absolute inspiration. I remembered the card you sent on my last birthday—you’ve never forgotten my birthdays, though it’s years since we met—with your new address here—and your ‘Doctor,’ and all the letters after your name! I thought it rather funny.” A faint smile, the first since Miss Walford’s arrival at Inkston, probably the first since Captain Eustace Cranster’s shell-shock had wrought catastrophe—appeared on her lips. “How I waited for your answer! You don’t mind having me, do you, dear? Mamma insisted on suggesting the P.G. arrangement. ”

“ Irechester’s) ; turning to the right again, but more sharply, the wayfarer found himself once more in villadom, but a villadom more ornate, more costly, with gardens to be measured in acres—or nearly. This was Hinton Avenue (Hinton because it was the maiden name of the builder’s wife; Avenue because avenue is genteel) . Here Mary dwelt, but by good luck her predecessor, Dr. Christian Evans, had seized upon a surviving old cottage at the end of the avenue, and, indeed, of Inkston village itself. ”

“ His face was turned down towards the old man, who was looking up at him and apparently talking to him, though in so low a tone that no sound reached Mary and Cynthia as they passed by. Neither man gave any sign of noticing their presence.
“Mr. Saffron, you said? Rather a queer name, but he looks a nice old man; patriarchal, you know. ”

“ Cynthia admitted.
“I come almost every afternoon. Oh, I’ve plenty of time! My round in the morning generally sees me through—except for emergencies, births and deaths, and so on. You see, my predecessor, poor Christian Evans, never had more than the leavings, and that’s all I’ve got. I believe the real doctor, the old-established one, Dr. ”