I shall have to give up the commission, and I don't know how my
client will get the work done in time. You see, I am pretty well up in
the literature of Ancient Egypt; in fact, I was to receive special
payment on that account. And it would have been such an interesting
task, too. However, it can't be helped."

I proceeded methodically with the application of the dressings, and
meanwhile reflected. It was evident that she was deeply disappointed.
Loss of work meant loss of money, and it needed but a glance at her
rusty black dress to see that there was little margin for that.
Possibly, too, there was some special need to be met. Her manner
seemed almost to imply that there was. And at this point I had a
brilliant idea.

"I'm not sure that it can't be helped," said I.

She looked at me inquiringly, and I continued: "I am going to make a
proposition, and I shall ask you to consider it with an open mind."

"That sounds rather portentous," said she; "but I promise. What is it?"

"It is this: When I was a student I acquired the useful art of writing
shorthand. I am not a lightning reporter, you understand, but I can
take matter down from dictation at quite respectable speed."

"Yes."

"Well, I have several hours free every day--usually the whole afternoon
up to six or half-past--and it occurs to me that if you were to go to
the Museum in the mornings you could get out your books, look up
passages (you could do that without using your right hand), and put in
bookmarks. Then I could come along in the afternoon and you could read
out the selected passages to me, and I could take them down in
shorthand. We should get through as much in a couple of hours as you
could in a day using long-hand."

"Oh, but how kind of you, Dr. Berkeley!" she exclaimed. "How very
kind! Of course, I couldn't think of taking up all your leisure in
that way; but I do appreciate your kindness very much."

I was rather chapfallen at this very definite refusal, but persisted
feebly:

"I wish you would. It may seem rather a cheek for a comparative
stranger like me to make such a proposal to a lady; but if you'd been a
man--in those special circumstances--I should have made it all the
same, and you would have accepted as a matter of course."

"I doubt that. At any rate, I am not a man. I sometimes wish I were."

"Oh, I am sure you are much better as you are!" I exclaimed, with such
earnestness that we both laughed. And at this mo