Mrs. Susan Sharpe heard this startling statement without moving a muscle of her dull, white face.
"Indeed, sir! A violent lunatic, sir?"
"Oh, dear, no! merely insane. Subject to occasional fits of violence, you understand, but quiet generally. But even in her most violent fits she would be nothing in your hands—a strong, large woman like you. She is little more than a child in years, and quite a child in weakness. If you don't mind the dullness of the country, you would suit admirably, I think."
"I don't in the least mind, sir. The situation will suit me very well."
"I am very glad to hear it," said the doctor, immensely relieved. "We may consider it a bargain, then?"
"If you please, sir," rising quietly. "When will you want me to go?"
"To-morrow morning. By the way, Mrs. Sharpe," said the doctor, eying the obnoxious lunettes, "why do you wear green glasses?"
"My eyes are weak, sir." Mrs. Sharpe removed the spectacles as she spoke, and displayed a pair of dull gray eyes with very pink rims. "The light affects them. I hope my glasses are no objection, sir?"
"Oh, not in the least! Excuse my question. Very well, then, Mrs. Sharpe; just give me your address, and I'll call round for you to-morrow forenoon."
Mrs. Sharpe gave him the street and number—a dirty locality near the East River. Dr. Oleander "made a note of it," and the new nurse made her best obeisance and departed.