human
Burns? repeated the second man to the question of the first.
gpt
Doc Burns? Sure! Next house beyond the corner--the brick one. He turned to point.
human
Tell it by the rigs hitched. It's his office hours. You'll do some waitin', tell ye that.
gpt
Thank you, he said, and passed on. He arrived at the corner and paused briefly, considering the row of vehicles in front of the old, low-lying brick house with its comfortable, white-pillared porches. The row was indeed a formidable one and suggested many waiting people within the house. But after an instant's hesitation he turned up the gravel path toward the wing of the house upon whose door could be seen the lettering of an inconspicuous sign. As he came near he made out that the sign read
human
R.P. Burns, M.D.,
gpt
I'll get a line on your practice, Red, said the stranger to himself, and laid hand upon the doorbell.
human
Incidentally, perhaps, I'll get a line on why you stick to a small suburban town like this when you might be in the thick of things. A fellow whom I've twice met in Vienna, too. I can't understand it.