"There is only one way out of
it--I must administer another dose of truth. Mr. Kirke discovered you
here by chance," he proceeded, aloud, "very ill, and not nicely attended
to. Somebody was wanted to take care of you while you were not able
to take care of yourself. Why not Mr. Kirke? He was the son of your
father's old friend--which is the next thing to being _your_ old friend.
Who had a better claim to send for the right doctor, and get the right
nurse, when I was not here to cure you with my wonderful Pill? Gently!
gently! you mustn't take hold of my superfine black coat-sleeve in that
unceremonious manner."
He put her hand back on the bed, but she was not to be checked in that
way. She persisted in asking another question.--How came Mr. Kirke
to know her? She had never seen him; she had never heard of him in her
life.
"Very likely," said Captain Wragge. "But your never having seen _him_ is
no reason why he should not have seen _you_."
"When did he see me?"
The captain corked up his doses of truth on the spot without a moment's
hesitation. "Some time ago, my dear. I can't exactly say when."
"Only once?"
Captain Wragge suddenly saw his way to the administration of another
dose.
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