To cover up this sudden finding of a live flesh and blood perfect person, his dictation clipped and became intricately anatomical.
During the chest examination he noted the nasty bruises against the cup-like breasts, and decided it was time to pull himself together. She probably murdered the English language and slept with all comers. The Attorney-General, for instance....
His irritation vibrated into her leg, when he felt for torn tendons. The girl roused herself momentarily and screamed:
“I don’t give a damn what kind of general you are! I’ll slap your face again! Take y’ dirty hands off me!”
The interne had been called away over the loud speaker; the floor nurse was busy at the ward telephone. Cub Sterling tiptoed to the door and closed it swiftly.
The tired wrinkles around his eyes began to crinkle, a fine humor relaxed his brittle body. He came back to the bed and squeezed the curly head of the unconscious figure against his long leg.
Then he leaned over and whispered in the little ear:
“You are all right, kiddo! But for God’s sake, wake up!”
Then he went back to methodically examining her legs and laughed shortly at the downy patches where the calves curved behind the small ankles; at the lopsided little V’s in the big-toe nails....
Never before in all of his medical experience had he had a devastating, unconscious, perfectly private patient.... He lifted a foot and laid it from the nape of his palm to the ends of his fingers. It was half an inch short of his nail tips and the little finger of his left hand could extend entirely under the instep without touching flesh....