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wavered and grew strong. She seemed to recall herself with difficulty and slowly. 'Did I faint? I'm all right now. Is that you, Stevens? What happened?'

"'I came in to bring your afternoon tea and you were in a dead faint, at the writing-table, all in a heap. I rang for cook and we carried you to the sofa, and tried to bring you round. Then cook telephoned for Dr. Lansdowne.'

"'Are you Dr. Lansdowne?'

"'He was out. I'm his partner, Dr. Kennedy. How are you feeling?' I asked her.

"'Better. Stevens, you can go away. Bring me some more tea. Dr. Kennedy will have a cup with me.' She struggled into a sitting position and I helped her. Then she told me she had always been subject to these attacks, ever since she was a child, that she was to have been a pianist, had studied seriously. But the doctors forbade her practising. Now she wrote. She admitted that her own emotional scenes overcame her. Then we talked of the emotions. …"

Dr. Kennedy looked at me as if enquiringly.

"Do you want to hear any more?"

"You saw her often after that?"

"Nearly every day, all the time she was here."

"And talked about the emotions?"

"Sometimes. What are you implying? What are you trying to get at? Whatever it is, you are