But the contents of the Chinese room fascinated her, and she lingered on, examining with growing interest the many beautiful curios. So absorbed was she that she never heard the opening and closing of the hall door.
“Oh, ho, Kathryn!” said a well-known voice, and with a stifled cry she faced about.
“Chichester!”
Barnard laughed softly as he observed her confusion. “Pretty, pretty, Kathryn!” he mocked. “Why so far from your patient, my dear?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“My general interest in your welfare prompts the question.”
“Rot!” bitterly. “You have already shown me that you care nothing for me.”
“Interest does not necessarily mean affection, my dear Kathryn. You are so emotional you confuse the terms.”
“I don’t want your interest,” she replied sullenly, her resentment rising.
“Oh, yes, you do,” with a provoking smile. “Suppose I lost interest in you and reported your neglect of Mrs. Fordyce to her husband. Is your reputation as a reliable nurse of no value to you?”