The women sitting patiently round the walls of the room eyed the young man curiously.
At last the doctor came.

He was about forty, good-looking, brown-skinned.

His wife had died, and he, who had loved her, had specialised on women's ailments.

Paul told his name and his mother's.
The doctor did not remember.
"Number forty-six M.," said the nurse; and the doctor looked up the case in his book.
"There is a big lump that may be a tumour," said Paul.

"But Dr.Ansell was going to write you a letter." "Ah, yes!" replied the doctor, drawing the letter from his pocket.