C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

“ I exclaimed, with a flash of naughty joy, for somehow I'd made up my mind not to like Doctor Jennings. “Major Murray has promised Rosemary and me to consult Beverley Drake about himself. It's the most marvelous thing that Sir Beverley should be in Exeter! Not to call him to the case would be tempting Providence!”
Jim doesn't know or care much about doctors, but even he knew something of Sir Beverley Drake. He is the man, of course, who did such wonders for soldiers who'd contracted obscure tropical diseases while serving in Egypt, India, Mesopotamia, Salonika, and so on. ”

“ Jim and I had sent quantities of flowers, and Doctor Jennings had sent some too. Rosemary and I arranged them, for there was no conventional nonsense about the bride keeping herself in seclusion until the last minute. Her wish was to be with the man she loved as often as she could, and to belong to him with as little delay as possible.
We transformed the room into a pink and white bower, and then taxied back to the Savoy to dress. There had been no time for Rosemary to have a gown made, and she had so many fascinating frocks that I advised her to wear one which Murray hadn't seen. But no! ”

“ Paul Jennings—who lived and practiced at Merriton, not far from Ralston Old Manor—reported unofficially on the condition of the place, at stated intervals. Murray had wired the news of his arrival in England to Jennings, and that he would be bringing a wife to Devonshire, whereupon the doctor asked by telegram if he might attend the wedding. Neither Murray nor the bride-elect could think of any reason why he should not come, so he was politely bidden to be present. ”

“ I heard some of these things from Murray, some from Jennings himself on the day of the wedding. And they made me more curious about the man than I should have been otherwise. Why, for instance, the Parisian wife? Do Parisian women, especially actresses, marry obscure English doctors in country villages which are hardly on the map? ”

“ Then she had disappeared, about the time that grandmother took me to Rome, and letters from friends mentioning her had said there was some “hushed-up scandal.” Exactly what it was, no one seemed to know. One thought it had to do with cocaine, another fancied it was a question of kleptomania or “something really weird.” The world had forgotten her since, but here she was, a Mrs. ”