Miss Rutherford stood for some time in profound and troubled thought, then sighed as she returned to her usual engagements.
The following day was Saturday, and therefore a half-holiday.

After dinner, Miss Rutherford prepared herself for walking, and left home.

A quarter of an hour brought her to a little out-of-the-way thoroughfare called Boston Street, close to the west side of Regent's Park, and here she entered a chemist's shop, over which stood the name Smales.

A middle-aged man of very haggard and feeble appearance stood behind the counter, and his manner to the lady as she addressed him was painfully subservient.

He spoke very little above a whisper, and as though suffering from a severe sore throat, but it was his natural voice.
"She's better, I thank you, madam; much better, I hope and believe; yes, much better." He repeated his words nervously, rubbing his hands together feverishly the while, and making his eye-brows go up and down in a curious way.
"Might I see her for a few moments ?" "She would be happy, madam, very happy: oh yes, I am sure, very happy If--if you would have the kindness to come round, yes, round here, madam, and--and to excuse our poor sitting-room.