'So busy, and so well,' she insisted, 'that even I can't find excuses for idling here much longer.'
He gave a perceptible start. 'What does that mean? What are you going to do?'
'I don't know. But I think'—she eyed him uneasily—'hospital work of some kind.'
He shook his head.
'I wouldn't take you in my hospital! You'd knock up in a week.'
'You're quite, quite mistaken,' she said, eagerly. 'I can wash dishes and plates now as well as anyone. Hester told me the other day of a small hospital managed by a friend of hers—where they want a parlour-maid. I could do that capitally.'
'Where is it?' he asked, after a moment.
She hesitated, and at last said evasively—
'In Surrey somewhere—I think.'
He took up the tongs, and deliberately put the fire together, in silence. At last he said—