But
to-day somehow, he seemed more--what would you call it--professional?"
"That's the word," her husband agreed. "It's the word they juggle with.
If a thing's 'professional,' it's all right. If it's not, it may as well
be condemned to outer darkness at once."
CHAPTER XIII
A CRISIS
"Little wife?"
"Yes, Redfield Pepper--"
"I'm as nervous as a cat up a tree with a couple of dogs at the foot!"
"Why, Red, I never heard you talk of being nervous! What does it mean?"
"An operation to-morrow."
"But you never are 'nervous,' dear."
"I am now."
"Is it such a critical one?"
"The most critical I ever faced."
Ellen looked at her husband, or tried to look, for they were moving
slowly along the street, at a late hour, Burns having suggested a short
walk before bedtime. It was quite dark, and Ellen could judge only by her
husband's voice that he spoke with entire soberness.
"Can you tell me anything about it?" she suggested, knowing that relief
from tension sometimes comes with speech. Any confession of nervousness
from Red Pepper Burns seemed to her most extraordinary. She knew that he
often worked under tremendous tension, but he had never before admitted
shakiness of nerve.
"Not much, if anything at all. It's a particularly private affair, for
the present. It's a queer operation, too.
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