room.

Finding Midwinter, after the double fatigue of a sleepless night and
a restless day, but little inclined for conversation, Allan left him
resting on the sofa, and lounged into the passage of the hotel, on the
chance of discovering somebody to talk to. Here another of the trivial
incidents of the day brought Allan and Mr. Hawbury together again, and
helped--whether happily or not, yet remained to be seen--to strengthen
the acquaintance between them on either side.

The "bar" of the hotel was situated at one end of the passage, and
the landlady was in attendance there, mixing a glass of liquor for the
doctor, who had just looked in for a little gossip. On Allan's asking
permission to make a third in the drinking and the gossiping, Mr.
Hawbury civilly handed him the glass which the landlady had just filled.
It contained cold brandy-and-water. A marked change in Allan's face, as
he suddenly drew back and asked for whisky instead, caught the doctor's
medical eye. "A case of nervous antipathy," said Mr. Hawbury, quietly
taking the glass away again. The remark obliged Allan to acknowledge
that he had an insurmountable loathing (which he was foolish enough to
be a little ashamed of mentioning) to the smell and taste of brandy. No
matter with what diluting liquid the spirit was mixed, the presence of
it, instantly detected by his organs of taste and smell, turned him sick
and faint if the drink touched his lips. Starting from this personal
confession, the talk turned on antipathies in general; and the doctor
acknowledged, on his side, that he took a professional interest in the
subject, and that he possessed a collection of curious cases at home,
which his new acquaintance was welcome to look at, if Allan had nothing
else to do that evening, and if he would call, when the medical work of
the day was over, in an hour's time.

Cordially accepting the invitation (which was extended to Midwinter
also, if he cared to profit by it), Allan returned to the coffee-room to
look after his friend. Half asleep and half awake, Midwinter was still
stretched on the sofa, with the local newspaper just dropping out of his
languid hand.

"I heard your voice in the passage," he said, drowsily. "Whom were you
talking to?"

"The doctor," replied Allan. "I am going to smoke a cigar with him, in
an hour's time. Will you come too?"

Midwinter assented with a weary sigh. Always shyly unwilling to make new
acquaintances, fatigue increased t