He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part. He flipped the television off. Or appeared to do so. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct.
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