She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. She was to be a Corsair’s Bride. No; I’m going to stick to the rules.
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