PARTNERS.
December still, but what a change! Without--bitter cold and driving
rain; within--bright fires and welcoming faces and a home.
They had returned from the Continent a few hours before, had tested
Maggie's "soups and sauces," had discussed ways and means by the fire
in Mona's consulting-room; and now Ralph had gone through the
curtained door into his own room adjoining, to look at his letters.
"I shall only be gone ten minutes," he had said, "if you invite me
back. Nobody is likely to call on a night like this, even in
'blessed Bloomsbury.'"
Sir Douglas had begged them to settle in Harley Street, but both
Ralph and Mona were far too enthusiastic to forego the early days of
night-work, and of practice among the poor.
Ralph had scarcely finished reading his first letter when a patient
was announced, and a moment later a young girl entered the room with
a shrinking, uncertain step. Her hair was wet with the rain, and her
white face expressionless, save for its misery.
"Do you wish to consult me?" he said. "Sit down. What can I do for
you?"
She looked at him for a moment, and tried to speak, but her full lips
quivered, and she burst into hysterical tears.
His practised eye ran over her figure half unconsciously.
"I think," he said kindly, "you would rather see the doctor who
shares my practice," and he rose, and opened the door.
Mona looked up smiling.
She was sitting alone in the firelight, and his heart glowed within
him as he contrasted her bright, strong, womanly face with--that
other.
"Mona, dear," he said quietly, "here is a case for _you_."
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