"Nothing actually." The other made a nasty sound. "No, that's true. I
didn't need them. I've seen it for myself this entire trip."
"And how do you diagnose it, Doctor?" A whisky bottle gleamed in the
light of the creamy sun.
"Just like that, he wants it. In two or three words. Where I need
books, where Freud took volumes, he wants it in two or three words."
"And the doctor doesn't have them," John said. Angus shook his head.
"But I do." He poured from the bottle. "She's seeing Charles."