"No, she's asleep, Huntter. She looks worn out. We must get a night nurse. Well, I have only this to say: God knows I pity you, but my duty compels me to say that—you should not marry! The chances are about even; but—you shouldn't take the risk."
A groan brought Priscilla to her feet, alert and quivering. Like a sudden and blinding shock she understood, what seemed to her, a whole life history. She stumbled to the door and faced Dr. Hapgood, hat in hand, keen-eyed, but detached.
"You slept—heavily?"
"Yes, Doctor Hapgood."
"I am going to send a night nurse to relieve you. When did you say your next engagement began?"
"March fifth."
"Well, you will need a week to recuperate. Make your plans accordingly. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Did he suspect? Did he warn her? But his next words were kindness alone.
"There should have been two nurses all along. One forgets your youth in your efficiency. Good morning."