main snags. First, the all-women staff—even housemen and consultants; and secondly, the fact that they don't like walking across the grounds on dark nights to get to the Nurses' Home."
Fay laughed. "Neither of those will worry me—I'm not interested in young doctors and I'm not afraid of the dark."
"Thank goodness for that," a sigh of relief went out from Sister Browning. "Then I'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire, and perhaps you can instill into these girls the fact that it isn't the end of the world if they're not married by the time they're twenty-one."
"I'll try," Fay promised, but she didn't really think she'd stand much chance of success. Whether because of Matron's warnings against romance, or in spite of them, there seemed to be a greater concentration on it here than anywhere else. Certainly more than in the Commemoration Hospital—but there of course Fay remembered that any girl, however plain or unattractive, could have her choice of a man at almost any age. Over here in England she realised that the balance between the sexes was only just beginning to readjust itself in favour of the girls.
All the same, although she made what excuse she could for them, Fay did get rather tired of men as the perpetual subject of conversation in the common rooms, dining room and even in the corridors.
Long before she had an opportunity of meeting them she knew just which of the housemen were "fun" and which were dull, knew which ones it was safe to encourage and which ones of whom to beware. And the gossip did not stop with housemen—the names of Registrars and Consultants were bandied about.
"Of course," Flip told her seriously as she ploughed her way through an enormous bun with her afternoon cup of tea,
"of course Osborne's by far the dishiest of the lot—but he's married."
"So are lots of the others, aren't they?" Fay's eyebrows went up in surprise, for she had been in the hospital long enough now to know that such things as engagements or marriage were very lightly disposed of in the nurses' quarters.
"Oh, but he's properly married—in fact he's the most proper thing you can come across—"
"He was brought up by a Victorian grandmother," someone else put in. "Still, all the same, I wouldn't mind being married to him. I'd feel so safe," the girl breathed ecstatically.
"Hm. Opportunity would be a fine thing," Flip said tartly.
"Come on, Gabriel," someone teased her, "who's your secret boy-friend? I noticed you've cold-shouldered all the housemen who've tried to date you. Who is he?"
"Mr. Nobody!" Fay forced herself to smile and speak lightly, but she did wish that it did not hurt her so much—all this idle lighthearted banter about men friends and dates. Sometimes she wondered if she could ever bring herself to accept some of the invitations which were pressed upon her—certainly it would make her seem more normal and attract less comment.
Gradually, though, time softened the edges and Fay settled down into the life of St. Edith's. Dates in plenty came her way, and whenever it was possible she chose those which included another couple. Foursomes were safe and would hurt nobody, she felt. If she did accept a solo date she took care that it was an isolated occasion and so she managed to steer clear of an entanglement. She even began to enjoy herself a little, since this was her first visit to London and there were so many things for her to see.
The only exception she made to her self-imposed rule of not getting too friendly with any one of the housemen was Shorty Shaw. He was anything but short and was the sporting type. He it was who took Fay along to the ice-skating club of which he was a member and there discovered that she was almost professional class, particularly in the field of dancing. After that their communal interest excused a succession of dates, though as she became established as a
member of the club, Fay often went there without an escort at all. But whenever it was possible
Fay laughed. "Neither of those will worry me—I'm not interested in young doctors and I'm not afraid of the dark."
"Thank goodness for that," a sigh of relief went out from Sister Browning. "Then I'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire, and perhaps you can instill into these girls the fact that it isn't the end of the world if they're not married by the time they're twenty-one."
"I'll try," Fay promised, but she didn't really think she'd stand much chance of success. Whether because of Matron's warnings against romance, or in spite of them, there seemed to be a greater concentration on it here than anywhere else. Certainly more than in the Commemoration Hospital—but there of course Fay remembered that any girl, however plain or unattractive, could have her choice of a man at almost any age. Over here in England she realised that the balance between the sexes was only just beginning to readjust itself in favour of the girls.
All the same, although she made what excuse she could for them, Fay did get rather tired of men as the perpetual subject of conversation in the common rooms, dining room and even in the corridors.
Long before she had an opportunity of meeting them she knew just which of the housemen were "fun" and which were dull, knew which ones it was safe to encourage and which ones of whom to beware. And the gossip did not stop with housemen—the names of Registrars and Consultants were bandied about.
"Of course," Flip told her seriously as she ploughed her way through an enormous bun with her afternoon cup of tea,
"of course Osborne's by far the dishiest of the lot—but he's married."
"So are lots of the others, aren't they?" Fay's eyebrows went up in surprise, for she had been in the hospital long enough now to know that such things as engagements or marriage were very lightly disposed of in the nurses' quarters.
"Oh, but he's properly married—in fact he's the most proper thing you can come across—"
"He was brought up by a Victorian grandmother," someone else put in. "Still, all the same, I wouldn't mind being married to him. I'd feel so safe," the girl breathed ecstatically.
"Hm. Opportunity would be a fine thing," Flip said tartly.
"Come on, Gabriel," someone teased her, "who's your secret boy-friend? I noticed you've cold-shouldered all the housemen who've tried to date you. Who is he?"
"Mr. Nobody!" Fay forced herself to smile and speak lightly, but she did wish that it did not hurt her so much—all this idle lighthearted banter about men friends and dates. Sometimes she wondered if she could ever bring herself to accept some of the invitations which were pressed upon her—certainly it would make her seem more normal and attract less comment.
Gradually, though, time softened the edges and Fay settled down into the life of St. Edith's. Dates in plenty came her way, and whenever it was possible she chose those which included another couple. Foursomes were safe and would hurt nobody, she felt. If she did accept a solo date she took care that it was an isolated occasion and so she managed to steer clear of an entanglement. She even began to enjoy herself a little, since this was her first visit to London and there were so many things for her to see.
The only exception she made to her self-imposed rule of not getting too friendly with any one of the housemen was Shorty Shaw. He was anything but short and was the sporting type. He it was who took Fay along to the ice-skating club of which he was a member and there discovered that she was almost professional class, particularly in the field of dancing. After that their communal interest excused a succession of dates, though as she became established as a
member of the club, Fay often went there without an escort at all. But whenever it was possible
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