Doctor's Orders Read Online Free PDF Page A

was neither the time nor place to register a protest about this convalescence. Diana rose and accompanied him out of the cocktail bar and through the lounge, into the reception hall.
    “It was so kind of you, Dr. Frederic, to stop and call on us,” she said.
    He looked down at her. At least, her chestnut hair was natural and nicely dressed, and her evening dress was in the most discriminating taste, but it was a pity she had nothing better to do than waste her time in such a place and such company.
    “I thought you would like to know about the appointment,” he said.
    “We did know,” said Diana, smiling. “We had heard from your secretary. I expect Mr. Wellis told you, but I am here to look after Anthea—more or less in charge of her.”
    “Well, you will do her no good by allowing her to spend her time smoking and drinking in the stuffy, impure air of cocktail bars,” he said brusquely. “I do not think that is what her father had in mind. However, bring her to me, and I will see the extent of her trouble.”
    Diana looked a little worried. He had no idea, of course, how carefully and tactfully Anthea had to be handled, but she did not like him to think she was falling down on her job.
    He held out his hand to her, and when she put hers into it, gave it a brief shake and let it go. “Goodnight, Miss—er ... ” he said.
    “Pevrill,” she supplied. “Diana Pevrill.”
    “Goodnight, Miss Pevrill. Do not let her drink spirits.”
    “Very well, doctor. Goodnight.”
    She stood on the top step of the shallow flight to watch him go. The evening air was certainly fresh and sweet after that of the bar. She saw Gerhardt straighten to attention as he saw the doctor, and he opened the door of the Rolls and drove swiftly and competently away. “That was quick,” thought Gerhardt, who had expected to wait longer. “Now for home and dinner,” and he pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
    Diana stood for a few moments on the step, after the car had vanished from her sight. Then she went down the few wide steps on to the drive and stood watching the colored lights playing on the elegant fountain. “Goodness,” she was thinking, “goodness. What a man—and he is to be our doctor all the summer. I thought he would be old, a doctor of such eminence. I was sure he would be old—I suppose because Mr. Wellis always called him ‘my old friend’. But he can’t be forty yet. Thirty-eight, perhaps. How can he be so distinguished, so clever and still so young? Oh my goodness, what a man,” and she took a long breath. She had been taken aback by him, so completely surprised that it was difficult to believe that this tall, dark, absorbed-looking man was the Dr. Frederic she had been imagining as elderly, bald, rotund and kindly.
    He was so concentrated, she thought, her eyes on the color that changed from white to green and palest pink. So vital. What was it exactly? So full of purpose, using every bit of himself. His movements were swift and somehow economical; his dark eyes so searching. Suddenly, by comparison with the doctor, the men in the hotel seemed elegant and spineless and weak. His handshake was brief and firm. There was nothing hesitant or undecided about him.
    “And he disapproved of us,” she thought suddenly. It was not surprising. Anthea was here to keep in check a serious threat, and she was here to see that it was kept in check, and they had been found in the worst possible place, engaged in drinking aperitifs in a smoke-filled bar. He could not know that she had succeeded in extracting a promise from Anthea that she would have only one cocktail and one cigarette before dinner. He could not know that handling Anthea was a difficult job calling for a good deal of diplomacy. What a pity that he had carried away with him such a bad impression.
    Diana knew that she should go in and bring Anthea out of the bar; that they should have their dinner and retire early to bed; but she wanted a few more minutes