That operating room! Belinda had a vision for a moment of the spotless, sterilized compartment at the New York hospital, with Doctor Herschall in mask, apron and white apparel, waiting at the table for a single case to be brought to him, putting his wonderful hands and fingers through an exercise like a pianist's gymnastics, to make them supple.
Then the girl was suddenly so busy that she had no time for visions.
CHAPTER XI
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
Belinda worked that morning in the operating ward until her knees shook under her and she felt that she would drop.
The guns continued to thunder and shake the huts. The stretcher bearers came and went. The three operating tables were so thickly surrounded by white-gowned surgeons that one could not see what was upon them.
The directrice seized Belinda at last and dragged her out of the ward.
"I've been looking for you," she said.
"Oh, Madame!" gasped the girl. "I feel I cannot——"
"Who wants you to? You've done too much already," interrupted the directrice. "It is time you had your soup. Haven't had anything to eat yet, I suppose? How many times must I warn you girls that your first duty to the wounded in your charge is to yourselves?"