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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"


This delusion was soon dissipated, as with audacity (no doubt
characteristic, though not before evidenced to me), he seated himself
complacently and uninvited, and, disposing of his hat and stick, settled
himself down for a _tete-a-tete_, an affair which, if medical, usually
partakes of the confidential.
"Your little _protege_, Miss Monfort," he said, huskily, "seems to be a
serious sufferer," and for a moment dropping his accent while he rubbed
his gloved hands together as with an ill-repressed self-gratification;
"come, tell me now what you are doing for his benefit," again
artistically assuming a foreign accentuation.
In a few words I described my course of treatment and its success.
"All very well," he responded, hoarsely, "as far as it goes; but I am
convinced that much severer treatment will be necessaire--"
"I think not," I replied, curtly; "and certainly nothing of the kind
will be permitted by me while I have charge of this poor infant."
"A few leetle pills, then, for both mother and child;" he suggested,
humbly.
"You are mistaken if you imagine any relationship to exist between Ernie
and myself," I answered, calmly, never dreaming at the moment of covert
or intended insult. "I might as well inform you at once, that I am Miss,
not Mrs. Monfort; you should be guarded how you make mistakes of that
nature.


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