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"Oh, because--because--" "Aha, dat de yaller-ha'r who makes you fear!" cried Dido, bitterly. "He hate Obi an' me. He will not marry you, missy!" "Who's talking about me?" demanded Judith's high treble, and they turned to see her in the doorway, silhouetted against the brilliantly lighted hall..
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"Oh, you say that because he does not believe in Obi or Voodoo!" "Yes, which was waiting in the winding lane at the foot of your grounds. Two people carried the body between them--a man and a woman--but Battersea cannot give me their names." He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality. "Dido! Well, I admit that such a barbaric treasure would tempt her, the more particularly as she knows about such wizard instruments. Ask her if she took it.".
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