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Updated: May 31, 2025
It was a very weak young man who sojourned for the next few weeks in the hospital, hovering so near the shadow of the Eternal Fixed Post that nurses and internes gave him up many times.
"What I meant," she said with dignity, "is that unless one counts very young men, and that isn't really love." "We'll leave out Joe Drummond and myself for, of course, I am very young. Who is in love with you besides Le Moyne? Any of the internes at the hospital?" "Me! Le Moyne is not in love with me." There was such sincerity in her voice that Wilson was relieved.
The internes helped him to the cot on which Doris had rested as she watched Pete through those dark hours, refusing to leave him till she knew the great danger had passed. Pete lay back staring at the ceiling. He was, stunned by this sudden calamity. And all at once he realized that it must have been The Spider who had called to see him several times.
Half a dozen gaily-attired young ladies, internes or pupils of the Convent, sallied out. They had exchanged their conventual dress for their usual outside attire, and got leave to go out into the world on some errand, real or pretended, for one hour and no more. They tripped lightly down the broad steps, and were instantly joined by the young men who had been waiting for them.
"You must have heard of Pellerin, I suppose?" the doctor continued. "I've never read a word of him myself: he's too big a proposition for me. But one can't escape the talk about him. I have him crammed down my throat even in hospital. The internes read him at the clinics. He tumbles out of the nurses' pockets. The patients keep him under their pillows.
His speech was incisive, vigorous. At the hospital they said his nerves were iron; there was no let-down after the day's work. The internes worshiped and feared him. He was just, but without mercy. To be able to work like that, so certainly, with so sure a touch, and to look like a Greek god!
"I shall leave a note in the mail-box," he said quickly, and proceeded with the scrubbing of his hands which signified the end of the day's work. The operations had lasted until late in the afternoon. The night nurses had taken up their stations; prayers were over. The internes were gathered in the smoking-room, threshing over the day's work, as was their custom.
Occasionally, a door opened almost soundlessly, and a white-clad figure would check the graph tapes on the creche's meters. Orne was lingering. He became the major conversation piece at the internes' coffee breaks: "That agent who was hurt on Heleb, he's still with us. Man, they must build those guys different from the rest of us!... Yeah!
When the internes had tried to find out, she had only said: "What's the use?" And she had died. Sidney kept asking herself, "Why?" those mornings when she could not get to sleep. People were kind men were kind, really, and yet, for some reason or other, those things had to be. Why? After a time Sidney would doze fitfully. But by three o'clock she was always up and dressing.
On one side of the aisle, near the front, sat the nurses in rows, in crisp caps and fresh uniforms. On the other side had been reserved a place for the staff. The internes stood back against the wall, ready to run out between rejoicings, as it were for a cigarette or an ambulance call, as the case might be. Over everything brooded the after-dinner peace of Christmas afternoon.
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