“Now, none of that. A nurse doesn't run away from her job, does she?” She had gotten control of herself, and her quick, clever fingers, with their firm, cool touch, seemed to bring rest to the jangling nerves of the sick man. Whatever it was, whether the touch of her fingers or the relief of the cool water upon his fevered face and arm, by the time the bathing process was over, Jack was lying quietly, already rested and looking like sleep.
“I say, this is heavenly,” he murmured. “Now a drink, if you please. I believe there is medicine about due too,” he said. She gave him a drink, lifting up his head on her strong arm. “I could lift myself, you know,” he said, looking up into her face with a little smile, “but I like this way so much better if you don't mind.”
“Certainly not; I am your nurse, you know,” replied Kathleen. “Now your medicine.” She found the bottle under his direction and, again lifting his head, gave him his medicine.
“Oh, this is fine. I will take my medicine as often as you want me to, and I think another drink would be good.” She brought him the glass. “I like to drink slowly,” he said, looking up into her eyes. But she shook her head at him.
“No nonsense now,” she warned him.
“Nonsense!” he said, sinking back with a sigh, “I want you to believe me, Kathleen, it is anything but nonsense. My God, it is religion!”
“Now then,” said Kathleen, ignoring his words, “I shall just smooth out your pillows and straighten down your bed, tuck you in and make you comfortable for the night and then—”
“And then,” he interrupted eagerly, “oh, Kathleen, all good children get it, you know.”
A deep flush tinged her face. “Now you are not behaving properly.”
“But, Kathleen,” he cried, “why not? Listen to me. There's no use. I cannot let you go till I have this settled. I must know. No, don't pull away from me, Kathleen. You know I love you, with all my soul, with all I have, I love you. Oh, don't pull away from me. Ever since that day when I first saw you three months ago I have loved you. I have tried not to. God knows I have tried not to because I thought you were pledged to that—that German fellow. Tell me, Kathleen. Why you are shaking, darling! Am I frightening you? I would not frighten you. I would not take advantage of you. But do you care a little bit? Tell me. I have had ten days of sheer hell. For one brief minute I thought you loved me. You almost said you did. But then you never came to me and I have feared that you did not care. But to-night I must know. I must know now.” He raised himself up to a sitting posture. “Tell me, Kathleen; I must know.”