"
It was a direct challenge; she charged him with a lie. Beaumaroy's face
assumed a really troubled expression, a thing rare for it to do. Yet it
was not an ashamed or abashed expression; it just seemed to recognize
that a troublesome difficulty had arisen. He set a slower pace and
prodded the road with his stick. Mary pushed her advantage. "Your--your
improvization didn't satisfy me at the time, and the more I've thought
over it, the less have I found it convincing."
He stopped again, turning round to her. He slapped his left hand against
the side of his leg. "Well, there it is, Doctor Mary! You must make what
you can of it."
It was complete surrender as to the combination knife-and-fork. He was
beaten, on that point at least, and owned it. His lie was found out.
"It's dashed difficult always to remember that you're a doctor," he broke
out the next minute.
Mary could not help laughing; but her eyes were still keen and
challenging as she said, "Perhaps you'd better change your doctor again,
Mr. Beaumaroy. You haven't found one stupid enough!"
Again Beaumaroy had no defense; his nonplussed air confessed that
maneuver, too.
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