CHAPTER VI
"Henry," said Mrs. Roughsedge to her husband, "I think it would do you
good to walk to Beechcote."
"No, my dear, no! I have many proofs to get through before dinner. Take
Hugh. Only--"
Dr. Roughsedge, smiling, held up a beckoning finger. His wife
approached.
"Don't let him fall in love with that young woman. It's no good."
"Well, she must marry somebody, Henry."
"Big fishes mate with big fishes--minnows with minnows."
"Don't run down your own son, sir. Who, pray, is too good for him?"
"The world is divided into wise men, fools, and mothers. The characters
of the first two are mingled--disproportionately--in the last," said Dr.
Roughsedge, patiently enduring the kiss his wife inflicted on him.
"Don't kiss me, Patricia--don't tread on my proofs--go away--and tell
Jane not to forget my tea because you have gone out."
Mrs. Roughsedge departed, and the doctor, who was devoted to her, sank
at once into that disorderly welter of proofs and smoke which
represented to him the best of the day. The morning he reserved for hard
work, and during the course of it he smoked but one pipe. A quotation
from Fuller which was often on his lips expressed his point of view:
"Spill not the morning, which is the quintessence of the day, in
recreation.
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