"Make it three weeks," Julia said, "and I shall be engaged to the man with the money."
I scouted the idea, but stayed—perhaps to prove it impossible.
Or perhaps at my age I knew well that to the young and the confident nothing is impossible.
THE PRIVATE WARD
He had been seized with sudden illness in the suburban hotel in which he was staying, and being unknown there, had been removed to the Princess Mary Cottage Hospital. The dozen beds of the men's ward were full, and he had been placed in the private ward. He lay now on the narrow bed, sleeping heavily, the white, bright light of the spring morning showing mercilessly the havoc selfishness and reckless self-indulgence had wrought upon a once sufficiently handsome face. The emaciation of his long form was plainly seen through the single scarlet blanket which covered it.
The visiting doctor and the nurse stood, one on either side, looking down on him.
"What sort of night?" asked the doctor.
"Pretty bad," answered the nurse. The patient had been admitted the previous day, and she had watched by him through the night. "He was awake till three, and very restless."
"You repeated at three the dose I ordered?"