But she had gallantly
stood to her guns and out of seeming defeat, won a victory. For the first
time in her diversified career she had worked in a congenial environment
toward a fixed goal, and in a few weeks now she would be launching her
own little boat on the professional main.
Her eyes grew tender as she thought of leaving these protecting gray
walls that had sheltered her for four long years; yet the adventure of
the future was already calling. Where would her first case lead her?
A cough from the bed brought her sharply back to the present. She went
forward and stooped to adjust a pillow, and the patient opened his eyes,
stared at her in bewilderment, then pulled himself up on his elbow.
"Nance!" he cried incredulously. "Nance Molloy!"
She started back in dismay.
"Why, it's Mr. Mac! I didn't know! I thought I'd seen the lady
before--no, please! Stop, they're coming! Please, Mr. Mac!"
For the patient, heretofore too absorbed in his own affliction to note
anything, was covering her imprisoned hands with kisses and calling on
Heaven to witness that he was willing to undergo any number of operations
if she would nurse him through them.
Nance escaped from the room as Mrs. Clarke entered. With burning cheeks
she rushed to Dr. Adair's office.
"You'll have to get somebody else on that case, Doctor," she declared
impulsively. "I used to work for Mr. Clarke up at the bottle factory,
and--and there are reasons why I don't want to take it.
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