The doctor nodded. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. "Hope to. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be.
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