“Excuse me just a moment,” she cried, and ran out into the living room and then outside the door and stood for a moment in the dark, drawing deep breaths and struggling to get control of the pity and of the joy that surged through her heart. “Oh, God,” she cried, lifting her hands high above her head in appeal, “help me to be strong and steady. He needs me and he wants me too.”
From the darkness in answer to her appeal there came a sudden quietness of nerve and a sense of strength and fitness for her work. Quickly she entered the house and went again to the sick room.
“Thank God,” cried Jack. “I thought I was fooled again. You won't go away, Kathleen, for a little while, will you? I feel just like a kiddie in the dark, do you know? Like a fool rather. You won't go again?” He raised himself upon his arm, the weak voice raised to a pitiful appeal.
It took all her own fortitude to keep her own voice steady. “No, Jack, I am going to stay. I am your nurse, you know, and I am your boss too. You must do just as I say. Remember that. You must behave yourself as a sick man should.”
He sank back quietly upon the pillow. “Thank God. Anything under heaven I promise if only you stay, Kathleen. You will stay, won't you?”
“Didn't you hear me promise?”
“Yes, yes,” he said, a great relief in his tired face. “All right, I am good. But you have made me suffer, Kathleen.”
“Now, then, no talk,” said Kathleen. “We will look at that arm.”
She loosened the bandages. The inflamed and swollen appearance of the arm sickened and alarmed her. There was nothing she could do there. She replaced the bandages. “You are awfully hot. I am going to sponge your face a bit if you will let me.”
“Go on,” he said gratefully, “do anything you like if only you don't go away again.”