"You're late," said Ledyard, looking keenly at him.
"Very late," echoed Helen, smiling. "I had dinner here and am waiting to be escorted home."
"She's refused my company. Where have you been, Dick?"
"I had to give out the diplomas, you know, at St. Albans."
"It's after eleven now, Dickie." Helen's gaze was full of gentle pride.
"I stopped for an hour to see those little girls play."
"The nurses?" Ledyard frowned. "Girls and nurses are not one and the same thing, to a doctor."
"Oh, come, come, dear friend!" Helen Travers went close to the two who were dearest to her in the world. "Do not be unmerciful. Being a woman, I must stand up for my sex. Did they play prettily, Dick? I'm sure they did not look as dear as they do in their uniforms."
"One did. She was—well, to put it concisely, she was a—dance!"
"Umph! That ruddy-headed one, I bet!" Ledyard turned on another electric light. "See here, Dick, do you think that girl could go abroad with Gordon Moffatt's daughter? Moffatt spoke about her. She rather impressed him while he was in St. Albans. She stood up against him. He never forgets that sort; he swears at it, but he trusts it. The old housekeeper is going along to keep the party in order, but a trained hand ought to go, too. The Moffatt girl has the new microbe—Unrest. It's playing the devil with her nerves. She's got to be jogged into shape."