"
"True. All else, if one may say so without disloyalty, is but
skin-deep."
"Superficial."
"Thank you, the expression is preferable, and I ask your leave to
substitute it."
"Solomon, my kinsman, is the noblest of men."
"And you, Miss Marty, the best of women!" cried the Doctor, taking
fire and a sip of the Fra Angelico together, and gulping the latter
down heroically. "I drink to you; nay, if I dared, I would go even
farther--
"No, no, I beg of you!" Her eyes, downcast before this sudden
assault, let fall two happy tears, but a feeble gesture of the hand
besought his mercy. "Let us talk of _him_," she went on
breathlessly. "His elevation of character--"
"If he were to marry, now?" the Doctor suggested. "Have you thought
of that?"
"Sometimes," she admitted, with a flutter of the breath, which
sounded almost like a sigh.
"It would serve to perpetuate--"
"But where to find one worthy of him? She must be capable of rising
to his level; rather, of continuing there."
"You are sure that is necessary? Now, in my experience," the Doctor
inclined his head to one side and rubbed his chin softly between
thumb and forefinger--a favourite trick of his when diagnosing a
case--"in my observation, rather, some disparity of temper, taste,
character, may almost be postulated of a completely happy alliance;
as in chemistry you bring together an acid and an alkali, and, always
provided they don't explode--"
"_He_ would never be satisfied with that.
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