"
"'They also serve who only stand and wait,'" quoted the doctor
sententiously. "There is something you can do."
"What?"
"Light your pipe and take it easy."
Kirk snorted.
"I mean it. In a very short while now you will be required to take the
stage and embrace your son or daughter, as the case may be. You don't
want to appear looking as if you had been run over by an automobile
after a night out. You want your appearance to give Mrs. Winfield as
little of a shock as possible. Bear that in mind. Well, I must be
going."
And Kirk was alone again.
The food and the drink and the doctor's words had a good effect. His
mind became quieter. He sat down and filled his pipe. After a few puffs
he replaced it in his pocket. It seemed too callous to think of smoking
now. The doctor was a good fellow, but he did not understand. All the
same, he was glad that he had had that whisky. It had certainly put
heart into him for the moment.
What was happening upstairs? He strained his ears, but could hear
nothing.
Gradually, as he waited, his mood of morbid self-criticism returned. He
had sunk once more into the depths when he was aware of a soft tapping.
The door bell rang very gently. He went to the door and opened it.
"I kinder thought I'd look in and see how things were getting along,"
said a voice.
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