Nothing escaped Carlotta's eyes—the younger girl's radiance, her confusion, even her operating room uniform and what it signified. How she hated her, with her youth and freshness, her wide eyes, her soft red lips! And this engagement—she had the uncanny divination of fury.
“I was going to ask you to do something for me,” she said shortly; “but I've changed my mind about it. Go on and keep your engagement.”
To end the interview, she turned over and lay with her face to the wall. Sidney stood waiting uncertainly. All her training had been to ignore the irritability of the sick, and Carlotta was very ill; she could see that.
“Just remember that I am ready to do anything I can, Carlotta,” she said. “Nothing will—will be a trouble.”
She waited a moment, but, receiving no acknowledgement of her offer, she turned slowly and went toward the door.
“Sidney!”
She went back to the bed.
“Yes. Don't sit up, Carlotta. What is it?”
“I'm frightened!”
“You're feverish and nervous. There's nothing to be frightened about.”