THE LETTER COMES
As Diana and the great specialist passed through the lower hall the ambulance bell sounded, sharply.
They mounted the stairs together.
"Ambulance call from Euston Station," shouted the porter, from below.
Diana sighed. "That will most likely mean another bad operation to-night," she remarked to Sir Deryck. "These fogs work pitiless havoc among poor fellows on the line. We had a double amputation this afternoon—a plate-layer, with both legs crushed. The worst case I have ever seen. Yet we hope to save him. How little the outside world knows of the awful sights we are suddenly called upon to face, in these places, at all hours of the day and night!"
"Does it try your nerve?" asked the doctor, as they paused a moment at the entrance to the ward.
Diana smiled, meeting his clear eyes with the steadfast courage of her own.
"No," she said. "My hunting-field experiences stand me in good stead. Also, when one is responsible for every preparation which is to ensure success for the surgeon's skill, one has no time to encourage or to contemplate one's own squeamishness."
The doctor smiled, comprehendingly.