“Change of air⁠—change of scene; those are my prescriptions,” pursued the practical young doctor. “But to return to our muttons, Lucy. As yet, Père Silas, with all his tact (they say he is a Jesuit), is no wiser than you choose him to be; for, instead of returning to the Rue Fossette , your fevered wanderings⁠—there must have been high fever⁠—”

“No, Dr. John: the fever took its turn that night⁠—now, don’t make out that I was delirious, for I know differently.”