His medical instincts came to his assistance.

"You had better leave London at once," he suggested.

"Get into pure air, and be out of doors all day long." He turned over the remains of the beetle with the end of his stick.

"The common beetle," he said; "I haven't damaged a Specimen." Ovid returned to the subject, which had suffered interruption through his abortive little act of mercy.

"You knew my uncle in Italy.