"Perhaps you could write a prescription--a sleeping-powder or a bromide of some sort." "Why, certainly," agreed the Doctor at once.

He turned back.

Miss Cornelia seemed pleased.
"I hoped you would," she said with a little tremble in her voice such as might easily occur in the voice of a nervous old lady.

"Oh, yes, here's paper and a pencil," as the Doctor fumbled in a pocket.
The Doctor took the sheet of paper she proffered and, using the side of his bag as a pad, began to write out the prescription.
"I don't generally advise these drugs," he said, looking up for a moment.

"Still--" He paused.