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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Are you perfectly sure?" insisted the Senior Surgeon. The pink in the White Linen Nurse's profiled cheek deepened a little. "Perfectly sure, sir!" attested the carmine lips. Like the crack of a pistol the Senior Surgeon snapped the ivory paper cutter in two. "All right then!" he said. "Rae Malgregor, look at me! Don't take your eyes from mine, I say!
Oh, of course, you've had rotten luck this past month, but what of it? That's the trouble with you country girls. You haven't got any stamina." With slow, shuffling-footed astonishment Rae Malgregor stepped out into the center of the room. "Country girls," she repeated blankly. "Why, you're a country girl yourself!" "I am not!" snapped Zillah Forsyth.
"Frankly, Miss Malgregor," he affirmed, "I'm infinitely more addicted to carving people than to carving trees. And as to Sunday school picnics? Well, really now I hardly believe that you'd find my demands in that direction excessive!" Perplexedly the White Linen Nurse tried to stare her way through his bantering smile to his real meaning.
Expeditiously with frank, non-sentimental fingers Rae Malgregor tore the tough cardboard across, and again across, and once again across, and threw the conglomerate fragments into the waste-basket. And her expression all the time was no more, no less, than the expression of a person who would infinitely rather execute his own pet dog or cat than risk the possible bungling of an outsider.
With her big credulous blue eyes, and her great mop of yellow hair braided childishly down her back, she looked inestimably more juvenile and innocent than his own little shrewd-faced six-year-old whom he had just left domestically ensconced in the middle of the broad gravel path. "For Heaven's sake, Miss Malgregor," he asked.
"So you see what I'm trying to do to you, Miss Malgregor, is to hire you with something that will just naturally compel you to stay!" If the grin round his mouth strengthened a trifle, so did the anxiety in his eyes. "For Heaven's sake, Miss Malgregor," he pleaded. "Here's a man and a house and a child all going to rack and ruin!
With apparent irrelevance he reached for his ivory paper-cutter and began bending it dangerously between his adept fingers. "How long have you been with me, Rae Malgregor?" he asked quite abruptly. "Four months actually with you, sir," said the White Linen Nurse. "Do you happen to remember the exact phrasing of my proposal of marriage to you?" he asked shrewdly.
"I didn't, either, jilt Joe Hazeltine!" stormed Rae Malgregor explosively. Backed up against her bureau, eyes flaming, breast heaving, little candy-box cap all tossed askew over her left ear, she stood defying her tormentor. "I didn't, either, jilt Joe Hazeltine!" she reasserted passionately. "It was Joe Hazeltine that jilted me! And we 'd been going together since we were kids!
Gray-haired, gray-bearded, gray-suited, grayly dogmatic as a block of granite, the Senior Surgeon loomed up at last in the doorway. "I'm in a hurry," he growled. "What's the matter?" Precipitously Rae Malgregor collapsed into the breach. "Oh, there's nothing at all the matter, sir," she stammered. "It's only it's only that I've just decided that I don't want to be a trained nurse."
Saturate the whole place with them! Drown the whole damned place!" Half way down the lower hall, all his nerves on edge, all his unwonted boyish impulsiveness quenched noxiously like a candle flame, he met and passed Rae Malgregor without a sign of recognition. "God!
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