It was Doctor Ralph, formerly the partner of Doctor Stickell in the Avenue, and now with a thriving practice of his own in Wamblesmith. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. "My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching.
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