At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. "How is the patient?" he asked. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Men usually do. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might.
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