She stated her case. She had seen the advertisement, and had come to apply for the situation. She was accustomed to the office of sick-nurse, and considered herself fully qualified for it.
Her statement was plain and straightforward—much more so than that of her predecessors. Dr. Oleander was inclined to be pleased, despite the green spectacles.
"But I should wish you to go into the country—a very dull place indeed."
The applicant folded her cotton gloves one over the other, and met the doctor's gaze with composed green glasses.
"The country is no objection, sir. I'm used to quiet, and all places are alike to me."
"You have your credentials with you, I suppose?"
"I have, sir. Here they are."
She handed two or three certificates of capability to the toxicologist.
He glanced them lightly over, and saw that Mrs. Susan Sharpe was all that heart could desire in the way of sick-nurse.
"These are satisfactory," handing them back. "But I have one fact to mention that may discourage you: the lady—the patient—is insane."