—Thank God, the woman was talkin’ about goin’.
—Time she went, too, airified body.
“Well, nurse, I think in about ten days’ time it will be safe for me to take over the dressings, and then there would be nothing left for you to do except teaching him how to get about and so on, and we can do that, can’t we, Jennings?”
“We can do that’m.”
Yes, they could do that. The nurse was intolerable, but at least she was alive, and now they were sending her away.
“Then, Mrs. Haye, I can write up to town to tell them that I shall be free in, say, twelve days’ time? That will make the 24th, won’t it?”
“Yes, shall we say the 24th? Why, it’s you, Ruffles. Oh, so old.”
“Poor dog.”
“How old is he, Mrs. Haye?”
“Twelve years old. He ought to be destroyed. One must be practical.”