“That you don’t want me to spoil it,”
she finished for him. “I know you don’t
care for me, K., not the way I—But I wanted
you to know. It doesn’t hurt a good man
to know such a thing. And it—isn’t
going to stop your coming here, is it?”
“Of course not,” said K. heartily.
“But to-morrow, when we are both clear-headed,
we will talk this over. You are mistaken about
this thing, Christine; I am sure of that. Things
have not been going well, and just because I am always
around, and all that sort of thing, you think things
that aren’t really so. I’m only a
reaction, Christine.”
He tried to make her smile up at him. But just
then she could not smile.
If she had cried, things might have been different
for every one; for perhaps K. would have taken her
in his arms. He was heart-hungry enough, those
days, for anything. And perhaps, too, being intuitive,
Christine felt this. But she had no mind to
force him into a situation against his will.
“It is because you are good,” she said,
and held out her hand. “Good-night.”
Le Moyne took it and bent over and kissed it lightly.
There was in the kiss all that he could not say of
respect, of affection and understanding.
“Good-night, Christine,” he said, and
went into the hall and upstairs.
The lamp was not lighted in his room, but the street
light glowed through the windows. Once again
the waving fronds of the ailanthus tree flung ghostly
shadows on the walls. There was a faint sweet
odor of blossoms, so soon to become rank and heavy.
Over the floor in a wild zigzag darted a strip of
white paper which disappeared under the bureau.
Reginald was building another nest.
Sidney went into the operating-room late in the spring
as the result of a conversation between the younger
Wilson and the Head.
“When are you going to put my protegee into
the operating-room?” asked Wilson, meeting Miss
Gregg in a corridor one bright, spring afternoon.
“That usually comes in the second year, Dr.
Wilson.”
He smiled down at her. “That isn’t
a rule, is it?”
“Not exactly. Miss Page is very young,
and of course there are other girls who have not yet
had the experience. But, if you make the request—”
“I am going to have some good cases soon.
I’ll not make a request, of course; but, if
you see fit, it would be good training for Miss Page.”
Miss Gregg went on, knowing perfectly that at his
next operation Dr. Wilson would expect Sidney Page
in the operating-room. The other doctors were
not so exigent. She would have liked to have
all the staff old and settled, like Dr. O’Hara
or the older Wilson. These young men came in
and tore things up.
She sighed as she went on. There were so many
things to go wrong. The butter had been bad—she
must speak to the matron. The sterilizer in the
operating-room was out of order—that meant
a quarrel with the chief engineer. Requisitions
were too heavy—that meant going around to
the wards and suggesting to the head nurses that lead
pencils and bandages and adhesive plaster and safety-pins
cost money.
