"I am afraid Miss Simpson is not pleased with last night's work."
She hesitated, then smiled. "Miss Simpson is not the keeper of my conscience."
"Thank God for that at least! You will not stay for more than half an hour to-night?"
"I don't know."
"No, Miss Maclean, you will not," he said firmly; "I will not have it."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Bear with my dulness," she said, "and explain to me your precise right to interfere. Is it the doctor's place to arrange how long the nurses are to remain on duty? I only ask for information, you know."
"Yes," he said boldly, "it is."
"Ah! so it becomes a simple matter of official duty. Thank you for explaining it to me."
Then suddenly the blood rushed up into her face. "Oh, Dr Dudley," she said impulsively, "what a brute I am to laugh and jest the moment I have turned my back on a tragedy like that!"
"And why?" he asked. "Do not the laughter and jesting, like the flowers and the sunshine, show that the heart of things is not all tragedy? If you and I could not laugh a little, in sheer healthy human reaction from too near a view of the seamy side of life, I think we should go mad; don't you?"