"You're right, of course," said Effie, with burning cheeks. "But it's a shame, it's horrible! How can anyone think I wish to flirt?"
She turned away—she was obliged to go back to her duties; but her heart felt much lighter after her conversation with Dorothy.
That afternoon Sister Kate, watched Effie as she would, could find no fault with her. She was attentive, tactful, kind, and considerate; a little bit of her old pleasant cheerfulness had also returned to her—her face looked less careworn.
The fact is, she was leaning on Dorothy, and felt the comfort of Dorothy's strong support.
The patients were only too glad for Effie to do things for them; and No. 47, who was very weak and low, smiled whenever the girl approached her bedside.
"Hold my hand, love, whenever you have a minute to spare," said the poor creature. "I feel low like, awfully low; I am going down—down, and it supports me to hold your hand; you're a good girl, anyone can see that."
"I try to be," said Effie, tears springing to her eyes.
"Ah, it's well to be good," continued the woman. "When we come to lie as I'm lying now, we think a sight of goodness."
"I hope you'll soon be better," said Effie.
"Never, my love, never again. I'm going out—that's what is happening to me; it's a lonesome thing to die, but I don't feel so lonesome when I'm holding your hand."