He had been supplanted, _quoad_ doctor, in the house of this rich, eccentric, railway baronet, and he would show that he bore no malice on that account.
So he smiled blandly as he took off his hat, and in a civil speech he expressed a hope that Dr Fillgrave had not found his patient to be in any very unfavourable state.
Here was an aggravation to the already lacerated feelings of the injured man.

He had been brought thither to be scoffed at and scorned at, that he might be a laughing-stock to his enemies, and food for mirth to the vile-minded.

He swelled with noble anger till he would have burst, had it not been for the opportune padding of his frock-coat.
"Sir," said he; "sir:" and he could hardly get his lips open to give vent to the tumult of his heart.

Perhaps he was not wrong; for it may be that his lips were more eloquent than would have been his words.
"What's the matter ?" said Dr Thorne, opening his eyes wide, and addressing Lady Scatcherd over the head and across the hairs of the irritated man below him.

"What on earth is the matter?
Is anything wrong with Sir Roger ?" "Oh, laws, doctor!" said her ladyship.