Dr. Braithwaite came twice during the week to see us, each time making a hurried call.  Harriet appeared to wish to impress us with the importance of these visits from so busy and distinguished a man.  But the noted surgeon himself was simple and unaffected in his manner.

One thing troubled me.  I had done nothing, said nothing to further Miss Sonnot’s desire to go to France as a nurse.  She had left us the day after Dicky’s sister and brother-in-law arrived, left with the admiration and good wishes of us all.  The big surgeon himself, after watching her attention to his mother-in-law upon the day of arrival, made an approving comment.

“Good nurse, that,” he had said.  I took the first opportunity to repeat his words to the little nurse, who flushed with pleasure.  I knew that I ought to at least inquire of the big surgeon or his wife about the number of nurses he was taking with him, but there seemed no fitting opportunity, and—­I did not make one.

I did not try to explain to myself the curious disinclination I felt to lift a hand toward the sending of Miss Sonnot to the French hospitals.  But every time I thought of the night she had told me of her wish I felt guilty.

Jack was already “somewhere in France.”  If Miss Sonnot entered the hospital service, there was a possibility that they might meet.

I sincerely liked and admired Miss Sonnot.  My brother-cousin had been the only man in my life until Dicky swept me off my feet with his tempestuous wooing.  My heart ought to have leaped at the prospect of their meeting and its possible result.  But I felt unaccountably depressed at the idea, instead.

The last day of the Braithwaites’ stay Harriet came unusually early to see her mother.

“I can stay only a few minutes this morning, mother,” she explained, as she took off her heavy coat.  “I know,” in answer to the older woman’s startled protest.  “It is awful this last day, too.  I’ll come back toward night, but I must get back to Edwin this morning.  He is so annoyed.  One of his nurses has fallen ill at the last moment and cannot go.  He has to secure another good one immediately, that he may get her passport attended to in time for tomorrow’s sailing.  And he will not have one unless he interviews her himself.  I left him eating his breakfast and getting ready to receive a flock of them sent him by some physicians he knows.  I must hurry back to help him through.”

Miss Sonnet’s opportunity had come!  I knew it, knew also that I must speak to my sister-in-law at once about her.  But she had finished her flying little visit and was putting on her coat before I finally forced myself to broach the subject.

“Mrs. Braithwaite”—­to my disgust I found my voice trembling—­“I think I ought to tell you that Miss Sonnot, the nurse your mother had, wishes very much to enter the hospital service.  She could go tomorrow, I am sure.  And I remember your husband spoke approvingly of her.”