do. You don't come
into my house again. I'll have your traps turned out to
you.--Jenkins!--You had better leave the town as fast as you can, too,
for this won't be a secret."

"You'll allow me to call on Mr. Crispin first?"

"Do. Tell him the truth, and see whether he'll take the thing up! If I
were God, I'd damn you!"

"Big words from you, Faber!" said the youth with a sneer, struggling
hard to keep the advantage he had in temper. "Every body knows you don't
believe there is any God."

"Then there ought to be, so long as such as you 'ain't got your deserts.
_You_ set up for a doctor! I would sooner lose all the practice I ever
made than send _you_ to visit woman or child, you heartless miscreant!"

The epithet the doctor really used here was stronger and more
contemptuous, but it is better to take the liberty of substituting this.

"What have I done then to let loose all this Billingsgate?" cried the
young man indignantly. "I have done nothing the most distinguished in
the profession haven't done twenty times over."

"I don't care a damn. What's the profession to humanity! For a wonder
the public is in the right on this question, and I side with the public.
The profession may go to--Turkey!"--Probably Turkey was not the place he
had intended to specify, but at the moment he caught sight of Juliet and
her companion.--"There!" he concluded, pointing to the door behind him,
"you go in and put your things up--_and be off_."

Without another word, the young man ascended the steps, and entered the
house.

Juliet stood staring, motionless and white. Again and again Dorothy
would have turned back, but Juliet grasped her by the arm, stood as if
frozen to the spot, and would not let her move. She _must_ know what it
meant. And all the time a little crowd had been gathering, as it well
might, even in a town no bigger than Glaston, at such uproar in its
usually so quiet streets. At first it was all women, who showed their
interest by a fixed regard of each speaker in the quarrel in turn, and a
confused staring from one to the other of themselves. No handle was yet
visible by which to lay hold of the affair. But the moment the young man
re-entered the surgery, and just as Faber was turning to go after him,
out, like a bolt, shot from the open door a long-legged, gaunt mongrel
dog, in such a pitiful state as I will not horrify my readers by
attempting to describe. It is enough to say that the knife had been used
upon him