Aleksandr Garin glanced thoughtfully at his friend who reclined on the sofa, his eyes transfixed on the fire. This was a puzzling occurrence to the doctor, who wondered what could be responsible for this unusual silence that ensued since he sat down. Usually, upon visiting Garin's handsome apartments, the young man ran through all the particulars of his day with precise detail, from what he had for breakfast to who he met on the road on his final stretch homeward. He'd end off by saying, 'You're a good sport, Garin with all Russian blood. Let's have a game of cards and some of your quality vodka..."

This was how the doctor mostly received him, but today, there was something 'serious' on the boy's mind, and he wondered if he did not already know what it was.

Eventually Lambert was on his feet walking from one part of the room to the next and still the doctor said nothing.

Tact was quite the way of Doctor Garin and his English mother always claimed he owed that to his father's side of the family since hers was of the gabbing stock who said what they willed when they saw fit. But of course, there could be no proof of the matter. His father had been a true Russian and though his mother did not always agree nor understand their ways, she respected her late husband's family as her own, never forgetting to share her 'Lexi' with the other relatives. As a result (not to mention the many payers on her part!) he turned out better than any of them had expected. His aunt on his father's side sanctioned him 'good blood after all' (she'd been opposed to his parents' marriage from the start!). And grandmother on his mother's side confessed that 'they hadn't ruined him after all.'

A sanctimonious satisfaction on both sides.

Wade Lambert stopped at last and glared at his friend.

"Oh, come now, Aleksandr, say something! You remind me of my mother staring at me like that."

Wade never used the doctor's first name unless he was in a serious fix and Garin eyed him for a minute before opening a lower cabinet and retrieving a bottle and crystal glasses. He poured brandy for them both.

"Nearly a week has passed since your picnic with Miss Brightley."

"And what of it?" Wade snapped with a touch of impatience.

"You were irritable after the races with Miss Flynn-"

"I lost a heavy wager! Of course I was upset."

"You were more than agreeable after horseback riding with Miss Poe."

"Lori gave us all quite a laugh and the weather couldn't have been better."

Garin, in a slow, methodical fashion, began arranging the instruments on his desk.

"Time with Miss Brightley, however, appeared to have affected you in an entirely different light."

Wade shook his glossy head that seemed to glow near the firelight and began the intense process of filling his pipe. He waved it at Garin when the doctor watched with an impassive expression.

"A new hobby I'm taking up because blokes like you enjoy butting into my business. Don't give me that look. It's an excellent stress reliever!"

"You're puzzled about something."

"Really, Aleksy, now's not the time for your wise observances."

Wade, setting aside his pipe which he'd not bother to light, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets with an annoyed air about him.

"I thought this whole marriage business would be a simple affair!"

Garin nodded as he sealed the brandy bottle. He moved over, offering a glass to his friend.

"And it isn't?"

Wade scoffed, accepting the drink.

"It's anything but that. It'd have been simpler had Mother blind-folded me and made me pick a number!"

His friend stirred the grate with a laconic smile then readjusted the hand woven rug before the hearth.

"Undoubtedly, I must agree. But Mrs. Lambert wouldn't be so cruel. She wanted you to have some ounce of choice in the affair."

"Cruel?! I'd have considered it proper decency, old boy. I think Mother and Father are truly out to get me for merely being their son!"

At this, the doctor chuckled as he organised his appointment calendar.

"You always possessed an intriguing imagination, Wade. Lori is, without a doubt, your sister."

Olga, Garin's only help, who also saw to the new tenants, entered the room, her hands clasped in front of a snow-white apron.

"Shall I serve coffee or tea this evening, sir?"

"Thank you, Olga, but there'll be no need. Mr. Lambert prefers something stronger."

Olga's black eyes moved towards the fireplace where her master's friend paced and muttered to himself. She turned back to Garin and gave a curt nod.

"As you wish, sir. I'll prepare a room in case Mr. Lambert wishes to spend the night."

"Very good, Olga. Thank you."

Wade, on hearing his name, snapped to attention and, noticing the maid, rushed towards her.

"Olga, my dear good woman! I need an opinion: if your son-hypothetically speaking, mind you-had to decide between three women, wait, wait, allow me to finish! No, no, not Garin, I assure you. Though that would be something worth witnessing, don't you...? No? Of course, yes. Anyway! He has to choose a wife of three women. What advice would you give him?"

There was a good deal of translating from Garin, ominous looks from Madame Olga along with 'Yoo Eenglezhmenz!' in what Wade could only describe as a disgruntled tone. At last, having uttered many remonstrances in Russian fashion and flair, she shrugged.

"Er.., What does she say, Garin?"

Normally, Olga made an attempt at her English whenever Wade dropped by to call on the doctor (she thought him 'a good boy' as far as young men went). Now, however, Wade felt the idea he'd put to her must have been too displeasing.

Garin, with strenuous effort, maintained a solemn expression.

"Olga says she'd make him marry the richest of the three."

This was news and both men laughed as Olga swept from the room with her head high, feeling mighty pleased with herself.

Wade, after a spell, wiped a tear from his eye.

"She was always a character, your Olga. Be sure to give her a raise, Garin. I'll admit I needed that."

He sighed, becoming more subdued, and leaned against the fireplace. An impressive bust of Garin's grand-uncle Horace, who'd been a highly esteemed professor in his day, decorated a nearby table. Wade's eyes brightened, and he snapped his fingers. "I've got it!"

Garin's patient voice came from near the twelve-foot bookcase.

"Love should never be rushed, my friend and, if you want my honest opinion, it should never be forced either. You are undecided as to which one you'll have, I imagine?"

"Yes, and no, because now I've got a solution that'll set the whole thing straight! And don't argue about it."

"When have I ever argued about-"

"You pick one for me!"

Garin's hand froze just under one of his medical encyclopaedias.

"What?"

"No, no, don't shut out the idea, just think of it! You are sensible and certainly know a good deal about women and such. I've not the time nor the patience to deal with this marriage nonsense."

He held up a finger just as the doctor was about to speak.

"But I need the shares Father's promised me to outdo Fred Burkes and time is running out! I must choose a bride."

"Then by all means choose!" said Garin, snatching Leonard Doyle's Great Medical Minds of Our Time before shaking his head and grabbing Horace Granger's Herbs for Healing instead. "I refuse to get involved in your romantic dealings. I am not a clergyman, Wade, and doctors tend to the sick and not, shall we say, romantically restless children."

The doctor seated himself behind his desk once more, and ran his interlaced fingers over the neat stubble on his chin.

"Certainly you prefer one of them?"

Wade shrugged before drinking his brandy in one go.

"That's just the problem, Garin. They're all charming."

"Yes, but you must narrow it down to one, my friend. Who can you see yourself with for the long term?"

Lambert twirled his pocket watch, his fingers tapping out a restless rhythm while his friend studied his profile from his chair.

"Long term... such dreadful words."

Garin's smirk was a patient one.

"The heart is a complex instrument, Wade, and love even more so."

Wade blinked several times before turning fully towards his companion. He blinked several times.

"By Jove, Garin! Are you implying I'm in love with one of them? Don't give me one of those smug looks! What were you implying there, sire?"

Garin twisted his father's ring around his finger before beginning to take a few notes.

"You are looking for a wife you'll be content with for tomorrows to come, not someone you can only bear for a summer yet cannot stand in winter. Now what was Mr. Bunkerson's complaint...? Ah, yes, headaches! I shall prescribe a good night's sleep."

Young Lambert gave his friend an exasperated look.

"Now's not the time your philosophy, Garin-"

"What attributes and qualities do you value most of the three?"

"What?"

The doctor scribbled another well considered note before rising to set his replies on the waiting tray for the morning post.

"Cast aside any sentimentality, Wade, and stick to reason-a sensible approach in your case. Marriage is very much a life sentence that requires constant investment and upkeep. One does not find a perfect wife. Perfection is the substance fools feed themselves to make their choices valid only to learn too late they'd simply blindfolded themselves from the truth. You ought to secure an adaptable wife who will improve upon your nature and intellect and for whom you may do the same. Marriage is about balance, not perfection."

Wade stared at him before focusing on a painting depicting laughing children near a burbling brook above the mantle.

"You always lose me when you drone on with your intellectual talk, you know. I appreciate it nonetheless."

The doctor smiled and clapped the young man on the back.

"I'm certain you'll choose well for yourself, Wade. As humans, they each possess flaws and you must decide which you can wholly accept."

"Can't offer me any tips, eh?"

The doctor only shook his head with a grin.

"You won't need any. My counsel should more than suffice. Just be prepared to embrace the complexities and imperfections that come. Consider, my friend, and all will be well with you."

Wade sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"This madness would be more bearable if your mother was making you marry as well. Then we'd both be neck deep in this rubbish."

In response to this, Garin turned away to add more logs to fire which cast eerie shadows about his handsome features. His reply, after a short while, came rather cheerily.

"I am well past the age where my mother would want to dabble in my romantic affairs. And you must also remember it is your reckless ways with women that have you in your current situation."

"But the thought of losing my bachelor status just rankles me!"

"Consider it an opportunity to shed the robes of boyhood-"

"What of your robes?"

"Let us refrain from that edge of the waters if we wish to remain friends."

"Right."

On this note, the two shook hands in the agreeable way of gentlemen and settled down to a game of cards. Young Lambert immediately forgot his cares and engrossed himself in the game with gusto, but the same cannot be said for our doctor, who played without heart since his mind was dusting over the delicate white curtain billowing gently in the late evening breeze...