“Oh, yes, but—”
“That ‘but’ again. Come, nurse, I think you believe that I take great interest in you.”
“Oh, yes, Sir Denton,” she said eagerly.
“Then trust me in this. Take my advice. More—oblige me by going. I am surgeon here, and you are nurse, but it has seemed to me, for some time past, that we have had a closer intimacy—that of friends. Come, you will oblige me?”
“It is your wish then, that I should go?”
“Indeed, yes. When will you be ready to start?”
“At once.”
“That is good. Then I will telegraph down, so that a carriage may be in waiting for you at the station. I am sure that Mr Elthorne will see that you have every comfort and attention. Good-morning. Thanks.”
Nurse Elisia stood by the door of the ward, watching the retiring figure of the old surgeon as he passed down the corridor.
“Is it not weak to have given way?” she said to herself. “Perhaps not in such a case as this. Mr Elthorne will see that I have every comfort and attention,” she said softly. “Mr Elthorne must be taught that I am the hospital nurse, sent down there for a special purpose. Mr Elthorne is weak, and given to follies such as I should not have suspected in so wise and able a man.”