Saffron recited his poem, or whatever it was, in bed."
"But I've talked to Mr. Saffron; his voice isn't like that; it's a little
high, but full and rather melodious."
"Oh, well then--" He spread out his hands, as though acknowledging a
check. "Still, the voice described as metallic seems to have been Mr.
Saffron's; at a certain moment at least. As a merely medical question of
some interest, I wonder if such a symptom or sign of--er--irritability
could be intermittent, coming and going with the--er--fits! Irechester
didn't say anything on that point. Have you any opinion?"
"None. I don't know. I should like to ask Dr. Irechester." Then, with a
sudden smile, she amended, "No, I shouldn't!"
"And why not, pray? Professional etiquette?"
"No, pride. Dr. Irechester laughed at me. I think I see why now; and
perhaps why Mr. Beaumaroy--" She broke off abruptly, the slightest
gesture of her hand warning Naylor also to be silent.
Having said good-bye to his friends by the window, Beaumaroy was
sauntering across the room to pay the like courtesy to herself and
Naylor.
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