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Eva turned to give him her most freezing stare. “May I ask just who you are?”

“That’s better,” said the young man with satisfaction. “We always take a positive emotion, like anger, as a good sign in the morbid cases. I’m a man named Scott.”

“Will you go away,” said Eva rudely, “or shall I, Mr. Scott?”

“You needn’t turn that pretty nose of yours up so. It’s the only name I ever had. Scott, Richard Barr. And it’s ‘Doctor,’ although you may call me Dick.”

“Oh,” said Eva in a small voice. “That Scott.”

She had heard of Dr. Richard Barr Scott. She could not have helped hearing about Dr. Richard Barr Scott, unless he had gone off to Patagonia. For some time her friends had been frothing slightly at the mouth over Dr. Richard Barr Scott, and it had become a cunning habit in many feminine quarters to visit Dr. Richard Barr Scott’s luxurious offices on Park Avenue. Even vigorous mothers had been known to come down suddenly with the most complicated ailments although from the way they all dressed for a visit to Dr. Scott’s one would have thought they were going to a cocktail party at the Ritz. The reports which reached Eva’s moody ears had been most enthusiastic.

“So you see,” said Dr. Scott, looming over her, “why I was concerned. Purely professional reaction. Bone-to-a-dog business. Sit down, please.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Sit down, please.”

“Sit down?” murmured Eva, wondering how her hair looked. “What for?”

Dr. Scott cocked an eye about. But except for the myriad fireflies and the tiny dinning voices, they were alone in that part of the Japanese garden. He placed a hard cool hand on Eva’s bare hand, and she was annoyed to feel goose-pimples. She rarely felt goose-pimples. So she froze him again and snatched her hand away.

“Don’t be a child,” he said soothingly. “Sit down and take off your shoes and stockings.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind!” gasped Eva, surprised out of her dignity.

“Take ’em off!” growled the large young man with sudden menace.

Eva found herself the next moment deposited on the stone lip of the pool beside the little bridge, obeying instructions. She thought she must be dreaming.

“Now,” said Dr. Scott briskly, squatting beside her. “Let’s see. Ah! Lovely legs. Lovely feet. Lovely arches — I see they haven’t fallen yet. They will... Put ’em in the pool please.”

For all her secret misery and confusion Eva began to enjoy the situation; it was mad and romantic, like something out of a fluffy book. He was a rather unusual doctor, she admitted grudgingly to herself; the reports hadn’t at all exaggerated.

“Lovely,” repeated Dr. Scott thoughtfully.

Eva was astounded to feel a jealous pang. He had done this sort of nonsensical thing before, that was it; that was most definitely it. It was part of his professional technique. A society doctor! Eva sniffed, losing some of the enjoyment. She knew all about them from Dr. MacClure. Clever young men who got by on personality, the bedside manner. Parasites, Dr. MacClure called them. Handsome, of course, preying on the weaknesses of silly females. They were a menace to society; Eva felt that quite beyond argument.

She would show him. Thought he’d caught another fish, did he? Dr. MacClure’s daughter! No doubt it would be good advertising, hanging in his office like a — like a pelt... Eva was just about to snatch up her stockings when she was shocked to feel him grasp her ankles firmly and splash them into the pool.

“Lovely,” said Dr. Scott again, absently.

The coolness of the water enveloped her bare feet, spreading up her legs over her heated skin.

“Cool?” asked Dr. Scott, still absently.

Eva was outraged at herself. All that came out of her mouth was a meek: “Well... yes.”

Dr. Scott roused himself, shaking off what seemed to be a thought. “That’s fine! Now, young woman, you answer some personal questions.”

Eva stiffened instantly; but the water felt so pleasant she relaxed the next moment, furious with herself.

He nodded, quite as if he had expected it. “Hot feet, short tempers. And vice-versa. Infallible remedy in warm weather.”

“Is this the usual preparation for an examination, Dr. Scott?” asked Eva tartly.

“What?”

“I mean — do you have a pool in your office, too? What do you do for a moon?”

“Oh,” said Dr. Scott, a little blankly.

“I suppose,” sighed Eva, wriggling her toes with pleasure, “this is what comes of eating suki-yaki, or whatever it is.”

Dr. Scott gazed at her oddly. Then he roused himself again and said: “You see, we must suspect many causes when a young female gets suicidal impulses.” He sat down beside her on the cement. “How old are you?”

“No chart?” asked Eva.

“What?”

“Twenty,” said Eva docilely.

“Digestion?”

“Quite.”

“Appetite?”

“Until recently,” said Eva darkly, “I ate like a sow.”

Dr. Scott surveyed her straight back, smooth arms, and cleanly moulded figure, a little lambent with moonlight. “Hmm,” he said. “That’s refreshing. Most refreshing.”

Eva smiled in the silver darkness. Most of her friends warred constantly on the common enemy of appetite, keeping two worried eyes on their scales.

“How much do you weigh?” continued Dr. Scott, still surveying.

“One-eighteen,” said Eva, adding wickedly, “stripped.”

“Well, Well Get plenty of exercise?”

“Only the horse gets more.”

“Any faintness on rising in the morning — ache in your bones?”

“Goodness, no.”

“Notice any lapses of memory — difficulty in concentrating?”

“Not a bit,” said Eva demurely, and the next instant she was angry with herself again. Being demure! What was the matter with her? She compressed her lips.

“Nothing wrong with your metabolism, apparently. Sleep well?”

Eva yelped, snatching her feet from the pool. A goldfish had nibbled, not unnaturally, at the bait of a wriggling toe. Eva steeled herself and slipped her feet back in the water.

“Like the dead,” she said firmly.

“Dream much?” asked Dr. Scott, pretending not to have noticed.

“A good deal,” said Eva. “But don’t ask me what I dream about because I won’t tell you.”

“You have already,” said Dr. Scott dryly. “Well, let’s see. Get the patient’s own diagnosis. Often helpful in psychiatric cases — can’t see anything physical at the moment. What do you think’s the matter with you?”

Eva drew her legs out of the pool definitely, tucking them in and inspecting the young man with frigidity.

“Now, please, don’t be difficult. You misunderstood. I was rehearsing the lines of a... a play I’m giving next week for my settlement children.”

“‘I wish I were dead,’” repeated Dr. Scott reflectively. “A little morbid for the tots, I should think.”

Their eyes locked; and after a while Eva turned back to the hungry little gullets in the pool, feeling hot and cold in alarmingly rapid alternations.

“All this piffle about when goldfish sleep,” drawled the large young man. “Don’t give me that. Have you any women-friends to speak of?”

“Mobs,” said Eva stiffly.

“For instance? I think I know some of your crowd.”

“Well, there’s Karen,” said Eva, desperately trying to think of someone different.

“Nonsense. She’s not a woman. She’s a cloud! And twice as old as you, too.”

“I don’t like women any more.”