"Well, all young men can't be doctors!"
"I should think it an extremely loathsome profession," said Morris, with an air of intellectual independence. Then, in a moment, he went on rather inconsequently, "Do you suppose there is a will already made in Catherine's favour?"
"I suppose so—even doctors must die; and perhaps a little in mine," Mrs. Penniman frankly added.
"And you believe he would certainly change it—as regards Catherine?"
"Yes; and then change it back again."
"Ah, but one can't depend on that!" said Morris.
"Do you want to depend on it?" Mrs. Penniman asked.
Morris blushed a little. "Well, I am certainly afraid of being the cause of an injury to Catherine."
"Ah! you must not be afraid. Be afraid of nothing, and everything will go well!"
And then Mrs. Penniman paid for her cup of tea, and Morris paid for his oyster stew, and they went out together into the dimly-lighted wilderness of the Seventh Avenue. The dusk had closed in
