''Of course,'' says the doctor quickly, moving back. ''Of course. Miss Smith, your grief does you credit. You need not fear for your safety, now. You need not fear for the safety of your mistress. Her care will soon be our concern, not yours. Then we shall keep her, and cure her of all her ills. Mr Rivers, you understand—a case such as this—the treatment may well be a lengthy one . . .?''
They rise. They have brought papers, and look for a surface on which to put them out. Richard clears the dressing-table of brushes and pins and they lay them there, then sign: a paper each. I don''t watch them do it, but hear the grinding of the pen. I hear them moving together, to shake each other''s hands. The staircase thunders as they go down. I keep in my seat beside the window. Richard stands in the path to the house while they drive off.
Then he comes back. He closes the door. He steps to me and tosses the wedding-ring into my lap. He rubs his hands together and almost capers.
''You devil,'' I say, without passion, wiping the tears from my cheek.
He snorts. He moves to the back of my chair and puts his hands to my head, one hand to either side of my face; then tilts it back until our gazes meet. ''Look at me,'' he says, ''and tell me, honestly, tha