“That was what he said.”
“Who? John Storm? He was right. Indeed, he was an entirely honourable and upright man, and——”
“But you always seemed to say there were other things more worthy of a girl, and if she had a mind to—— But no matter. We needn't talk about the hospitals any longer. I am not fit for them and shall never go back to them, whatever happens.”
He looked down at her. She was biting her lips, and the tears were gathering in her eyes.
“Well, well, never mind, dear,” he said, and he patted her hand again.
The moon had begun to wane, and out of the dark shadows they walked in they could see the lines of houses lit up all around.
“Look,” she said, with a feeble laugh, “in all this great busy London is there nothing else I'm fit for?”
“You are fit for anything in the world, my dear,” he answered.
Her nerves were throbbing harder than ever. “Perhaps he doesn't remember,” she thought. Should she tell him what he said so often about her talents, and how much she might be able to make of them?
“Is there nothing a girl can do except go down on her knees to a woman?”