“Miss Carruthers, Dr. MacArthur just stepped out a minute.... He asked me to wait until he returned and ask you to please let this nurse...?”
His “silver threads” smile brought an immediate acquiescence. The old lady smiled, backed out, and Higgins offered the student nurse a chair.
She sat upon the edge, her narrow feet together and the bony ankles pressing against each other. Higgins offered her a cigarette. Her refusal was jerky.
“Excuse me,” he said walking toward the door. “My mistake. I don’t want to get you thrown out.”
She flinched slightly and her round chin tried for a well-bred hauteur. It missed.
When the door was closed, Higgins looked squarely, slowly, with open summary, at the girl. She thought he was flirting. When his eyes began their spreading lid trick, she felt as though he were pointing the muzzle of a pistol toward her. She tried to fight his silence with words.
“Who are you? Why are you looking at me that way?”
Higgins laid his head against the door. His lids continued widening.
Her words beat the air:
“Stop looking at me! Stop it!”