ugly shadow. She must refer to her debt to him, and acknowledge her obligations.
“Mr. Sherrarde, Mrs. Woods reminded me today of the fact that—”
His brows slanted up over his cool eyes. Ann gulped and forced herself to go on. “I mean the bills for my room ... for the consultants ... which I understand you have met ... I intend to repay you as soon as I’m able.” She concluded the last sentence in a little rush. Not that she wanted to do so, but once she had started on the subject, she had to finish it. It had been a mistake to refer to it at all. She read that in his expression and guessed that he had never dreamed of making himself responsible for her bills. Naturally not, when her own family was here on the spot.
Ann hoped that never again in her life would she feel humiliation as deep as this. Had Mrs. Woods foreseen her schoolgirlish gesture and so warned her not to refer to the subject? She shrank a little more into herself at the thought of that smart woman’s cruel laughter.
She got up and went to the door. “I’ll find out if the children are in bed, Mr. Sherrarde.”
He seemed to shake himself out of his own discomfort. “No, it’s too late. You have seen them? Do you remember them?”
“No.” The girl shook her pretty dark head. “I don't remember them and they don’t appear to remember me. They have never seen me in uniform.”
“No!”
Let the truth be revealed as soon as possible, Ann thought miserably. That she was an impostor ... a silly impostor who...
And now she felt she could bear no more. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Sherrarde? I’m sorry there’s no one at home.”
“No, I’ll be off now. I think you will be wise to have an early night.”
Only when he had gone did Ann remember that she had offered him no word of thanks for taking her to hospital, for visiting her there and arousing her from the twilight of despair.
Childishly she wished that he had never found her — that he had allowed her to go wandering on until she was run down by some careless motorist, or until she had blundered into the river. Or that he had left her in that dim grey twilight to drift away into oblivion...
CHAPTER FIVE
EVEN though she had wished she were dead on the previous night, when Ann woke next morning in her dark little room, to find that the pale spring sunshine was creeping in, she thought that perhaps after all, it was still good to be alive. She stretched her slim arms above her head, yawned and wondered whether she was imagining that someone was at the door.
No, there it was again — a sort of bump. She called “Come in,” and reached for a fluffy white bedjacket to pull around her shoulders.
Two angelic-looking faces appeared round the crack. “We wondered if we’d been dreaming last night,” Guy whispered. “Emma said we couldn’t dream the same things, but we often do.”
“Silly, we don’t,” pronounced Emma, no less lordly this morning than she had been last night. “I tell you my dream and then you say you’ve dreamed the same, but you never tell me first.”
“I don’t remember at first,” Guy explained apologetically.
As they were speaking, they appeared completely round the door, clad in their pyjamas, no dressing-gowns, and no slippers on their bare feet.
“Goodness, you’ll be frozen!” expostulated Ann. “Hop into bed, quickly.”
“It’s been freezing outside. You can see some white on the lawns and on the trees,” Emma shouted, as she moved the curtains and stared out of the window.
Guy was only too willing to accept Ann’s invitation. He snuggled up to her and sighed blissfully as she rubbed his cold toes. “Your feet are like ice,” she scolded.
Guy evidently set little store by the scolding. “I like you, Nurse Auntie Anne,” he announced. “You smell nice and you’re warm.”
Ann began to laugh, but Emma wasn’t going to allow the remark to pass without pungent comments “She’d be as cold as you
“Mr. Sherrarde, Mrs. Woods reminded me today of the fact that—”
His brows slanted up over his cool eyes. Ann gulped and forced herself to go on. “I mean the bills for my room ... for the consultants ... which I understand you have met ... I intend to repay you as soon as I’m able.” She concluded the last sentence in a little rush. Not that she wanted to do so, but once she had started on the subject, she had to finish it. It had been a mistake to refer to it at all. She read that in his expression and guessed that he had never dreamed of making himself responsible for her bills. Naturally not, when her own family was here on the spot.
Ann hoped that never again in her life would she feel humiliation as deep as this. Had Mrs. Woods foreseen her schoolgirlish gesture and so warned her not to refer to the subject? She shrank a little more into herself at the thought of that smart woman’s cruel laughter.
She got up and went to the door. “I’ll find out if the children are in bed, Mr. Sherrarde.”
He seemed to shake himself out of his own discomfort. “No, it’s too late. You have seen them? Do you remember them?”
“No.” The girl shook her pretty dark head. “I don't remember them and they don’t appear to remember me. They have never seen me in uniform.”
“No!”
Let the truth be revealed as soon as possible, Ann thought miserably. That she was an impostor ... a silly impostor who...
And now she felt she could bear no more. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Sherrarde? I’m sorry there’s no one at home.”
“No, I’ll be off now. I think you will be wise to have an early night.”
Only when he had gone did Ann remember that she had offered him no word of thanks for taking her to hospital, for visiting her there and arousing her from the twilight of despair.
Childishly she wished that he had never found her — that he had allowed her to go wandering on until she was run down by some careless motorist, or until she had blundered into the river. Or that he had left her in that dim grey twilight to drift away into oblivion...
CHAPTER FIVE
EVEN though she had wished she were dead on the previous night, when Ann woke next morning in her dark little room, to find that the pale spring sunshine was creeping in, she thought that perhaps after all, it was still good to be alive. She stretched her slim arms above her head, yawned and wondered whether she was imagining that someone was at the door.
No, there it was again — a sort of bump. She called “Come in,” and reached for a fluffy white bedjacket to pull around her shoulders.
Two angelic-looking faces appeared round the crack. “We wondered if we’d been dreaming last night,” Guy whispered. “Emma said we couldn’t dream the same things, but we often do.”
“Silly, we don’t,” pronounced Emma, no less lordly this morning than she had been last night. “I tell you my dream and then you say you’ve dreamed the same, but you never tell me first.”
“I don’t remember at first,” Guy explained apologetically.
As they were speaking, they appeared completely round the door, clad in their pyjamas, no dressing-gowns, and no slippers on their bare feet.
“Goodness, you’ll be frozen!” expostulated Ann. “Hop into bed, quickly.”
“It’s been freezing outside. You can see some white on the lawns and on the trees,” Emma shouted, as she moved the curtains and stared out of the window.
Guy was only too willing to accept Ann’s invitation. He snuggled up to her and sighed blissfully as she rubbed his cold toes. “Your feet are like ice,” she scolded.
Guy evidently set little store by the scolding. “I like you, Nurse Auntie Anne,” he announced. “You smell nice and you’re warm.”
Ann began to laugh, but Emma wasn’t going to allow the remark to pass without pungent comments “She’d be as cold as you