While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. But let the horses be in readiness. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp.
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