She watched him. After reading it through he began it again, a
puzzled look upon his face. Then she saw it flush all over, and he
crushed the note into his pocket.
"What is it about, Philip?"
"Pratt wants a prescription for gout that I told him of. I'm sure I
don't know whether I can find it."
He had answered in a dreamy tone with thoughts preoccupied, and quitted
the room hastily, as if to search for it.
Eliza wondered why he should flush up at being asked for a prescription,
and why he should have suddenly lost himself in a reverie. But she had
not much curiosity as to anything that concerned old Major Pratt--who
was at present staying in lodgings in London.
Downstairs went Mr. Hamlyn to the little room he called his library,
seated himself at the table under the lamp, and opened the note again.
It ran as follows:
"DEAR PHILIP HAMLYN,--The other day, when calling here, you spoke
of some infallible prescription to cure gout that had been given
you. I've symptoms of it flying about me--and be hanged to it!
Bring it to me yourself to-morrow; I want to see you.
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