“I came up to ask if there is anything I can do for you?” Hugh Wyndham moved over to her side, and Nurse Deane’s preoccupation prevented her becoming conscious of his scrutiny. “I think Noyes exceeded matters when he asked you to undertake the care of another patient.”
Vera Deane’s face lighted with one of her rare smiles. “Oh, no,” she protested. “We nurses are always glad to assist in emergencies. Dr. Noyes came in to see Mr. Porter and he explained that one of your aunt’s dinner guests had been taken ill, and requested me to make him comfortable for the night.”
“Still, with all you have to do for poor Craig it’s putting too much on you,” objected Wyndham. “Let me telephone into Washington for another night nurse, or, better still, call Nurse Hall.”
Vera laid a detaining hand on his arm. “Mrs. Hall was ill herself when she went off duty; she needs her night’s rest,” she said earnestly. “I assure you that I am quite capable of taking care of two patients.”
“It wasn’t that,” Hugh paused and reddened uncomfortably, started to speak, then, thinking better of his first impulse, added lamely, “I never doubted your ability, but—but—you’ve been under such a strain with Craig—”
“Mr. Porter is improving,” interrupted Vera swiftly. “And as my new patient is not seriously ill—”
“True,” Wyndham agreed, slightly relieved. “Just an attack of vertigo—Noyes and I got him to bed without calling you.” He did not think it necessary to add that he had stopped the surgeon sending for her. “Noyes said you need only look in once or twice during the night and see that he is all right.” A thought occurred to him, and he added hastily: “Perhaps I can sit up with him—”
“That will hardly be necessary.” Vera’s tone of decision was unmistakable. “I thank you for the offer,” raising grave eyes to his. Wyndham bowed somewhat stiffly and moved away. “Just a moment, Mr. Wyndham; what is the name of my new patient?”
Wyndham’s glance was a mixture of doubt and admiration.
“He is Bruce Brainard, a well-known civil engineer,” he said slowly, halting by the head of the winding staircase. He looked thoughtfully over the banisters before again addressing her. “Brainard is just back from South America. I had no idea my aunt and Millicent knew him so well, why”—in a sudden burst of confidence—“Brainard gave me to understand before dinner that he and Millicent were engaged. Let me know if I can assist you, Miss Deane. Good night,” and barely waiting to hear her mumbled reply he plunged down the stairs.