Her fingers tightened around the cup. She could feel the warmth of the porcelain against her palms, but it did little to ease the tension that had settled in her shoulders.
Doctor Henry watched her quietly. "Has something about the examination upset you?"
Penelope shook her head at once. "No," She responded, instantly composing herself.
He waited.
She took another sip of tea, though she barely tasted it. It was supposed to ground her, but instead, her stomach felt heavy. "It is simply the cold," she said.
Doctor Henry's gaze remained upon her. "The cold?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"You are certain?" he asked carefully.
With a faint smile, "Quite."
He did not appear convinced, but he did not press her further.
Instead, he leaned forward and rested his forearms upon his knees. "Very well," he said. "We shall take our time. I would rather you did not feel compelled to endure anything that makes you uncomfortable."
The words caught her off guard.
