She looked at him in surprise. "If what you want to ask about is—anything connected with the management of things here—you know we're not supposed to talk of our patients outside of the hospital." "I know. But I am going to ask you to break through the rule—in that poor fellow's behalf." A protest wavered on her lip, but he held her eyes steadily, with a glint of good-humour behind his determination. "When do you go off duty?" "At six." "I'll wait at the corner of South Street and walk a little way with you. Let me put my case, and if you're not convinced you can refuse to answer." "Very well," she said, without farther hesitation; and Amherst, with a slight nod of farewell, passed through the door near which they had been standing. II When Justine Brent emerged from the Hope Hospital the October dusk had fallen and the wide suburban street was almost dark, except when the illuminated bulk of an electric car flashed by under the maples. When She crossed the tracks and approached the narrower[p 8] thoroughfare where Amherst awaited her. He hung back a moment, and she was amused to see that he failed to identify the uniformed nurse with the girl in her trim dark dress, soberly complete in all its accessories, who advanced to him, smiling under her little veil. [p 8] "Thank you," he said as he turned and walked beside her. "Is this your way?" "I am staying in Oak Street. But it's just as short to go by Maplewood Avenue." "Yes; and quieter." For a few yards they walked on in silence, their long steps falling naturally into time, though Amherst was somewhat taller than his companion. At length he said: "I suppose you know nothing about the relation between Hope Hospital and the Westmore Mills." "Only that the hospital was endowed by one of the Westmore family." "Yes; an old Miss Hope, a great-aunt of Westmore's. But there is more than that between them—all kinds of subterranean passages." He paused, and began again: "For instance, Dr. Disbrow married the sister of our manager's wife."
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