“I wish I could thank you, but I can't. I did need it. You have helped me greatly.”
“You are better now,” she said softly. “It's very, very hard for you, so far from home, and from all your friends.”
“There is no one else,” said Barry simply. “We have no one but just ourselves.”
At this point his father opened his eyes bright and very wide-awake.
The V. A. D. began to gather up the tea things. Barry put out his hand and touched her arm.
“Dad, this is your night nurse. She was very kind to me last night, and again to-night. This is Miss Vincent.”
The brightness of the V. A. D.'s smile outshone his own.
“I'm not a real nurse,” she said. “I'm only a V. A. D., you know. They use me to wash the floors and dishes, and for all sorts of odd jobs. To-night they are shorthanded, and have put me on this duty.”
While she was speaking, she continued to smile, a smile of radiant cheer and courage.
The wounded man listened gravely to her, his eyes searching her face, her eyes, her very soul, it seemed to her. In spite of her experience and her self-control, she felt her face flushing under his searching gaze.