A little cry startled both men and made them look round. In a recess of the corridor above they could distinguish the figure of a woman, and Mr. Wedmore's heart smote him, for it was Doreen.
"Go away, child! Go away!" said he, half petulantly, but yet with some remorse in his tone. "The girl's crazy about him," he added, with irritation, when his daughter had silently obeyed.
"Poor child! Poor child!" said Doctor Haselden, sympathetically. "She's the real old-fashioned sort, with a warm heart under all her little airs. I hope he'll get round, if only for her sake. But—"
"She couldn't marry him in any case," said Mr. Wedmore, shortly. "I thought I told you that affair was broken off—definitely broken off—weeks ago. And now—"
He stopped and intimated by a gesture of the hand that the break was more definite than ever.
The doctor was curious, but he tried not to show it.
"I should wire up to town for another nurse, I think," said he. "This little girl can't do it all."
Mr. Wedmore pricked up his ears.
"Then I must wire for two—for two nurses," said he, decidedly. "We're going to send this girl off. She's not a nurse at all."
"Ah, but she does very well," objected the doctor, promptly, "and you will be doing very unwisely if you send her away. It seems she understands all the circumstances of the case, and that counts for something in treating a patient who has evidently something on his mind. She seems to be able to soothe him, and in a case of concussion—"