I dropped down obediently.
“You work at Tadminster, don’t you, Miss Murdoch?”
She nodded.
“For my sins.”
“Do they bully you, then?” I asked, smiling.
“I should like to see them!” cried Cynthia with dignity.
“I have got a cousin who is nursing,” I remarked. “And she is terrified of ‘Sisters’.”
“I don’t wonder. Sisters are, you know, Mr. Hastings. They simp-ly are! You’ve no idea! But I’m not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the dispensary.”
“How many people do you poison?” I asked, smiling.
Cynthia smiled too.