young,” said Dr. Max. “Willing to learn at that age. You'll have to watch her, though. You'll have all the internes buzzing around, neglecting business.”
Miss Gregg rather fluttered. She was divided between her disapproval of internes at all times and of young probationers generally, and her allegiance to the brilliant surgeon whose word was rapidly becoming law in the hospital. When an emergency of the cleaning up called her away, doubt still in her eyes, Wilson was left alone with Miss Harrison.
“Tired?” He adopted the gentle, almost tender tone that made most women his slaves.
“A little. It is warm.”
“What are you going to do this evening? Any lectures?”
“Lectures are over for the summer. I shall go to prayers, and after that to the roof for air.”
There was a note of bitterness in her voice. Under the eyes of the other nurses, she was carefully contained. They might have been outlining the morning's work at his office.
“The hand lotion, please.”
She brought it obediently and poured it into his cupped hands. The solutions of the operating-room played havoc with the skin: the surgeons, and especially Wilson, soaked their hands plentifully with a healing lotion.
Over the bottle their eyes met again, and this time the girl smiled faintly.
“Can't you take a little ride to-night and cool off? I'll have the car wherever you say. A ride and some supper—how does it sound? You could get away at seven—”
“Miss Gregg is coming!”
With an impassive face, the girl took the bottle away. The workers of the operating-room surged between them. An interne presented an order-book; moppers had come in and waited to clean the tiled floor. There seemed no chance for Wilson to speak to Miss Harrison again.
But he was clever with the guile of the pursuing male. Eyes of all on him, he turned at the door of the wardrobe-room, where he would exchange his white garments for street clothing, and
Prev.
Back
Top