There was only one letter in the pocket, written in a female hand.
It was dated "Sunday," but bore no address further than "London, N." on the postmark.
"Pity," said the doctor pleasantly.

"Of course you have had diphtheria yourself ?" "No." "H'm, I can hardly advise you to leave him till somebody comes to relieve guard.

But it's doubtful whether he will be well in time to nurse you.

You should send for your own folk in time." If this doctor had not been Railsford's only support at present, he would have resented this professional flippancy more than he did.
"I'm not afraid," said he.

"I shall try to find out where his people live.