“I shall not allow you to go back,” she said with decision.
Stranleigh laughed.
“In a long and comparatively useless life I have never contradicted a lady, but on this occasion I must insist on having my own way.”
“I quite understand your reason, Mr. Stranleigh, though it is very uncomplimentary to me. It is simply an instance of man’s distrust of a woman when it comes to serious work. Like most men, you would be content to accept me as a nurse, but not as a physician. There are two doctors in Bleachers, and you are anxious to get under the care of one of them. No—please don’t trouble to deny it. You are not to blame. You are merely a victim of the universal conceit of man.”
“Ah, it is you who are not complimentary now! You must think me a very commonplace individual.”
She had thrown the coat over his shoulders, after having washed and dressed the wound. The bullet had been considerate enough to pass right through, making all probing unnecessary. With a safety-pin she attached his shirt sleeve to his shirt front.
“That will do,” she said, “until I prepare a regular sling. And now come out to the verandah. No; don’t carry the chair. There are several on the platform. Don’t try to be polite, and remember I have already ordered you to avoid exertion.”
He followed her to the broad piazza, and sat down, drawing a deep breath of admiration. Immediately in front ran a broad, clear stream of water; swift, deep, transparent.
“An ideal trout stream,” he said to himself.