“All right.” He returned the list. “That was a mighty pretty probationer I brought you yesterday.”
Two small frowning lines appeared between Miss Harrison's dark brows. He caught them, caught her somber eyes too, and was amused and rather stimulated.
“She is very young.”
“Prefer 'em young,” said Dr. Max. “Willing to learn at that age. You'll have to watch her, though. You'll have all the internes buzzing around, neglecting business.”
Miss Gregg rather fluttered. She was divided between her disapproval of internes at all times and of young probationers generally, and her allegiance to the brilliant surgeon whose word was rapidly becoming law in the hospital. When an emergency of the cleaning up called her away, doubt still in her eyes, Wilson was left alone with Miss Harrison.
“Tired?” He adopted the gentle, almost tender tone that made most women his slaves.
“A little. It is warm.”
“What are you going to do this evening? Any lectures?”
“Lectures are over for the summer. I shall go to prayers, and after that to the roof for air.”
There was a note of bitterness in her voice. Under the eyes of the other nurses, she was carefully contained. They might have been outlining the morning's work at his office.