He was in love with another woman, a girl he had seen once or twice only in his life--the girl at Brown's Buildings.
It was absurd, of course.

He might never meet her again; it was more than probable that by this time some other man had discovered so great a prize; she might be engaged, married.

The chances were that, though he had thought of her every day since he had left her, she had well-nigh forgotten him, or, at the best, thought of him as a foolish young man who had sacrificed himself for a mistaken sense of chivalry, the man whom she, a slip of a girl, had saved from suicide.

Why, he told himself, any feeling she must have for him must be that of contempt.

All the same, he loved her, and therefore this other woman could be nothing to him.
The doctor and Mr.Bloxford came to see him; Bloxford full of impish delight and satisfaction at Derrick's recovery, and full also of threats of what he, Bloxford, would do if ever he came across the cause of Derrick's "accident." An hour later Derrick had another visitor.