"I am so sorry," she began, "that you could not have known sooner. But you remember you left no address. There was—"
"What are you doing here?" he broke in abruptly. "What is the use—why—" he paused for a moment to steady his voice—"you can't stay here," he went on. "Don't you know the risk you are running? You can't stay here another moment."
"That," answered Lloyd, smiling, "is a matter that is interesting chiefly to me. I suppose you know that, Mr. Bennett."
"I know that you are risking your life and—"
"And that, too, is my affair."
"I have made it mine," he responded quickly. "Oh," he exclaimed sharply, striking the back of the chair with his open palm, "why must we always be at cross-purposes with each other? I'm not good at talking. What is the use of tangling ourselves with phrases? I love you, and I've come out here to ask you, to beg you, you understand, to leave this house, where you are foolishly risking your life. You must do it," he went on rapidly. "I love you too well. Your life is too much to me to allow you to hazard it senselessly, foolishly. There are other women, other nurses, who can take your place. But you are not going to stay here."
Lloyd felt her indignation rising.
"This is my profession," she answered, trying to keep back her anger. "I am here because it is my duty to be here." Then suddenly, as his extraordinary effrontery dawned upon her, she exclaimed, rising to her feet: "Do I need to explain to you what I do? I am here because I choose to be here. That is enough. I don't care to go any further with such a discussion as this."
"You will not leave here, then?"
"No."