Baron Lawrence's temples throbbed violently.
His lips could still touch the palm of her hand, that feeling of being so angry he could beat her up, yet unable to act against her "soft knife" strategy surged up again. His eagle-like eyes were still filled with rage, but there was more compromise now. He pulled her hand away and said, with a stern face, "Don't bother, someone will come soon."
The Old Man would call the doctor.
Enna Clark hadn't seen him command anyone to treat his wound, and as she wondered how that could be, there was a knock at the door, "knock knock."
Baron Lawrence's back was in such pain that it was cramping. He had been toughing it out until now, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he said to Enna Clark, "Enna Clark, open the door."
"Okay."
Enna Clark didn't delay and went to open the door.
Outside stood a man in a white coat, holding a medicine box. She was surprised.
Was this really the doctor?
When had he called for a doctor?
