Evidently she had inherited from her father that sure, firm touch which is perhaps the highest talent of the surgeon.

"It seems such an--an--such a _hard_ profession for a woman," said he, to induce those fascinating lips of hers to move.
"It isn't soft," she replied.

"But then father hasn't brought us up soft." This was discouraging, but Arthur tried again.

"You like it ?" "I love it," said she, and now her eyes were a delight.

"It makes me hate to go to bed at night, and eager to get up in the morning.