The doctor’s eyes moved to his bandaged hand. “And you’ve paid for it, my friend! It might have torn your hand off, eh? Does it hurt? But it suits you,” he added bloodthirstily.
“But, father,” said Annie, “leave him alone now!”
“What’s that to do with you?” grunted the doctor and caressed her with a hand which smelt of carbolic and iodoform.
After that the doctor kept the key of the consulting-room in his pocket. Prokop ordered a parcel of scientific books, went about with his arm in a sling and spent the whole day in study. The cherries had already begun to blossom, the sticky young leaves were glistening in the sun, the golden lilies were putting out heavy buds. Annie went about the garden with a buxom girl friend, their arms round one another’s waists, laughing all the time. They put their red faces together, whispered something, burst out laughing and began to kiss one another.
At last Prokop felt bodily well again. Like an animal, he basked in the sun, blinking his eyes. Then he would sigh and sit down to work, but would at once feel an inclination to move about and wander far into the country, passionately giving himself up to the joy of breathing. Sometimes he would meet Annie about the house or in the garden and try to say something. Annie would look at him out of the corner of her eye and not know what to do. Prokop would be equally at a loss and coves,his embarrassment by speaking in a gruff
