“Let me finish my story, dear. Don’t interrupt half through. Dr Greatman was most kind and understanding. I think in a kind of way he feels that he owes me some compensation, as it was he who laid the bar on my life. I took him letters from the doctors who know me, giving my character as professional nurse. They were rather nice, Jean. I was proud of them, and Dr Greatman said he wished he could speak as highly of many of his certificated nurses. He advises me to take a two years’ course of training at a hospital. I should have to ‘live in,’ and give up all my time; but as soon as the two years are over I will look out for a house and a sheep dog, and gather together my treasures to make a real little home of my own. You shall help me to arrange it, Jean! It shall be in town, as near to you as rents will allow, in a quiet street, with at least two spare rooms facing south. Then I shall be ready for work as it comes along. Sometimes I shall go to a patient’s house, and nurse her there; sometimes—if her own house is unsuitable, or if she is a poor governess, or a worker who hasn’t got a home—I’ll take her in, and look after her in my own rooms. At other times I’ll have convalescents who want kitchen food and kindness. Sometimes I’ll have guests—poor, dull drones who are suffering from all work and no play, and dose them with kindness and amusement. Then I shall fed of some use, and that my house is doing good to other people besides myself.”
“They’ll sponge upon you, and tire you out, and take everything they can get, and then go away, and slander you behind your back.”
“Tant pis! Let’s hope they’ll do it sufficiently far away to let me continue in my blissful delusion that I’ve done some good.”
“You’ll get sick of it. It’s no use pretending; you were as fond of gaiety and amusement as I was myself. You’ll get sick of everlasting invalids.”
“Then I’ll take a spell off, and do nothing, and be as selfish as I please. I’m not bound. If a roving fit seizes me I can shut up house and go off on my travels. I don’t intend to spend all my life in a rut. I’m a poor gentlewoman myself, and need my own medicine. Don’t imagine that I’m tying myself down to continual drudgery, for I’m not; but I must, I must have an object in life!”
“And for two whole years you propose to shut yourself up in a hospital?”
“I do; with the exception of an afternoon a week, a day a fortnight, and three weeks’ annual holiday.”
“May I ask what Piers has to say?”
Vanna’s smile was both whimsical and pathetic.
“You may; but I shan’t answer. Several volumes of very strong language, poor dear man; but he knows—at the bottom of his heart he knows that I am right!”