This arrangement was listlessly agreed to by Miss Lady, who had no
plans for the future, and dreaded another adjustment. She was
singularly alone in the world, and too dazed for the present to know
what her next step should be. The only thing of which she was certain,
was that she would never leave Thornwood.
On one of the first days that Doctor Queerington was allowed to sit
up, she went in to see him. Her first impression in the darkened room
was the kindly clasp of a hand, and a wonderful low voice that spoke
words of comfort. Then gradually she saw the slender, over-serious
face of a middle-aged man, with small eyes somewhat too close
together, a broad intellectual forehead, and a firm, well-formed mouth
that seemed a stranger to smiles.
From that time on she found his room a refuge. He had been the unknown
object of her admiration since she was a child, he was her father's
friend, the last to be with him before his death, and he talked to her
for hours about the great mysteries of life and death. He was the only
person to whom she talked who never seemed to be in doubt.
It was not the first time that the Doctor had proven a consoling
presence in time of affliction.
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