“Excuse me, not for mine. I’m vaccinated against marriage. I’m tired of having men growl and grumble at me all the time.”
“Sure, so am I. But, Heine, wouldn’t it be perfectly grand to have just one great big man to jaw at you! He asked me to call him Geoffrey.”
“Look here, kid, you’re not falling in love, are you?” demanded the quizzical Heine.
“I wonder if he has another girl,” answered Miss Young irrelevantly.
About noon Geoffrey became exceedingly restless. Miss Young smoothed his pillows again and again. Once, when her hand strayed temptingly near, he grasped it and kissed it. It must be confessed that Miss Young didn’t withdraw her hand quite so quickly as the superintendent would have thought proper. She even blushed, and that was very unusual for the sophisticated nurse.
“Gee, I know I’m an awful bore to keep bothering you like this, but haven’t you changed your mind? Don’t you think you can marry me?”
“Look here, Geoffrey”—she really hadn’t meant to call him Geoffrey—“you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the only woman you’ve seen in the last three weeks. I may have helped pull you over some pretty rough places. Of course you think you have to marry your benefactor.”
“I have to marry you, Miss Young, but that’s not the reason. I’m going to ask you three times a day until you consent to be my wife.”
“Well, keep it up, Geoffrey. It will help pass the time.” Miss Young had quite regained her customary impenetrability.
Geoffrey kept his word. When his nurse was in the room he watched her continually and at the most unexpected times propounded the old question. If she left the room he always developed a dreadful thirst as an excuse for an imperative summons. Even Miss Young found it hard to doubt his sincerity. She floundered between natural emotions and her professional indifference.