“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Well, not serious. She needs plenty of rest and quiet.”
If she had had any encouragement this would have been her cue for a yawn.
“Well, it’s quiet enough here,” I said, and smiled. “Quiet for you, too, I guess?”
That was all she needed. You could see her getting ready to unpin her hair.
“Quiet? I’d as soon be buried in Tutankhamen’s tomb,” she exclaimed, and then remembering she was supposed to be a nurse in the best Florence Nightingale tradition, had the grace to blush. “But I guess I shouldn’t have said that, should I? It isn’t very refined.”
“You don’t have to be refined with mc,” I assured her. “I’m just an easygoing guy who goes even better on a double Scotch and water.”
“Well, that’s nice.” Her eyes asked a question, and mine gave her the answer. She giggled suddenly. “If you have nothing better to do…”
“As an old pal of mine says, ‘What is there better to do?’”
The plucked eyebrow lifted.