"I should think not."
"He is, of course, a very great friend of yours?"
"I don't know why you should suppose that."
"Come, come," he remonstrated, "I suppose I am an infernally curious, prying sort of chap, but when one thinks of you, a society belle of America, you know, and, further, the patroness of that great hospital, crossing the Atlantic yourself in charge of a favoured patient, one can't help—can one?"
"Can one what?" she asked coolly.
"Scenting a romance or a mystery," he replied. "In any case, Mr. Phillips must be a man of some determination, to risk so much just for the sake of getting home."
She turned and recommenced their promenade.
"I wonder whether you realise that it isn't etiquette to question a nurse about her patient," she reminded him.
"I'm sure I am very sorry," he assured her. "I didn't imagine that my questions were in any way offensive. I told you from the first that I was always interested in invalids and cases of illness."
She turned her head and looked at him. Her glance was reproving, her manner impatient.