"Thank you." Desire moved to the window. "You must find it very peaceful here—after nursing overseas."
Nurse Watkins tapped her full upper lip with her pen. "Yes," she said. "It's very dull." Desire smiled. Her spirits had been rising ever since her entrance and she was now quite cheerful. Pretty as Miss Mary Watkins undoubtedly was, there was a some-thing—could it be possible that she chewed gum? No, of course she could not chew gum. And yet there was an impression of gum somewhere—an insinuating certainty that she might chew gum on a dark night when no one was looking. Desire heaved a little sigh of satisfaction and, leaning out, appeared to occupy herself with the passers-by.
"Aren't Bainbridge streets wonderful?" she said.
Nurse Watkins' mouth took on a discontented droop. "The streets are all right," she said, "only they don't go anywhere."
Desire laughed. "Are you as bored as that?" she asked.
"Worse. I wouldn't stay here a minute if it weren't—I mean, if I hadn't been advised to rest up a bit."
Desire looked at her watch, and rose. Now that her curiosity had been amply satisfied, she began to realize that curiosity is an undignified thing. And also that she had not been the only person present to give way to it.
The somewhat drawling tones of Miss Watkins' voice were not at all in keeping with the activity of her wide-awake blue eyes. A sense of this nurse's speculation as to her presence there flicked Desire with little whips of irritation. It is one thing to observe and quite another to render oneself observable. She felt the blood flow hotly to her cheek. Why had she come? How could she have so far forgotten her natural reserve, her instinctive dislike of intrusion? Desire saw plainly that she had allowed a regrettable sentiment to trick her into a ridiculous situation. Satisfied curiosity is usually ashamed of itself.
And how absurd to have fancied for a moment that this blond prettiness could be Mary!
"I am afraid I cannot wait longer," she murmured with polite regret.