“To shee the night nurse on Ward B.”
“I’m the night nurse.” Her voice still quaked.
Gripping her like a vice, he stuck his thick face into hers and the stench of his breath reached the whole ward.
“Y’re not Rhosh Standziz! Where is Rosh?”
Then swaying as a top-heavy steamer might when tied to a brittle mooring, he turned to the ward and announced:
“I’se bin in luz wiz Rosh, scincz ... sincz ... sincz ...” he shook his head helplessly and the motion seemed to straighten his tongue, temporarily.... “I just came back from China Station. They said over the ’phone last night Rose was on Ward B.” His voice clouded again. “Sho I brought her shum r ... r ... rhozes.”
He laid the flowers upon a bed and took Miss Kerr’s face in both of his hands. By that time every woman on the ward was sitting bolt upright regardless of her condition. A fly would have sounded like an airplane.
Crushing her face with his hands, he demanded:
“Swhere iz Rosh? Zhu! Phoo! Zhu ain’t Rosh!” and then his voice took on a hide-and-seek tenor.
And he crushed with more force, and they both swayed.