it. Let him fight his own battles. In any case, surely you’re too young and—too lovely, if that isn’t forward of me!—to adopt this mothering attitude! Or does it”—again his glance appraised her— “ come with the uniform, so to speak?”
“I don’t think I know what you mean?”
“Don’t you?” His smile flashed at her. “Come now, d’you mean to tell me that you’ve never been tempted to play a part which you felt was becoming to your uniform?”
“I don’t think so. I —”
“Nor sheltered behind it? Retired into the cold impersonality of it, in order to get yourself out of a difficult situation? Nor, conversely, used the damned attractiveness of it for your own ends?”
Joanna said evenly: “If I did any of those things, wouldn’t that make me a very artificial person?”
His eyes mocked her. “No. Merely—a woman! And a woman must make her own armor—as she must make her own weapons. I’ve always supposed that a pretty nurse could use her uniform as either — on occasion.”
“Indeed? Well, it’s a point of view that’s as interesting as it’s highly imaginative! ” retorted Joanna.
“Not so imaginative! F o r instance, you are using your own against me now, just as you snubbed me yesterday with your professional ‘I usually enjoy my cases’!”
“Really? And am I employing my armor—or my weapons?”
“Oh, your armor! No doubt you’ll be keeping your weapons for bigger game—the Harley Street specialist, the highly eligible patient —”
Joanna rose abruptly. This foolish conversation had gone far enough. “Hadn’t you better go to Mr. Carnehill now?” she inquired coolly.
He had risen too. “I suppose so,” he said as they moved towards the door together. For an instant he laid a hand lightly upon her arm.
“You’ll remember our pact? That you will come to the Dower House when things get too much for you here?”
“Why should they ever do that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe they won’t. In that case, I should regard your visit merely as a formal call. But — I think you will come.”
To her chagrin, Joanna found no adequate reply to the cool effrontery of this assumption. As she hesitated, the door opened and Mrs. Carnehill came in.
“Ah, there you are, Justin,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was kept later than I expected in the city. You’ve had your dinner? Have you seen Roger?”
“On my way now. Miss Merivale and I have been keeping each other company over our coffee.”
“Well, do go to Roger. He was rather insistent. But”—she took off her gloves and nervously dragged them into a rag of tautness between her hands — “don’t quote more figures at him than you can help. He worries so —”
Justin spread his hands in a gesture which seemed to reassure her. “I can’t quote figures. I haven’t any with me. Just an overall picture of how things are going — that’s all he wants?”
“I—think so.” She watched him nervously as he left the room. Then she turned to Joanna. “They don’t care for each other, those two. But you liked Justin — didn’t you?”
It was a question which Joanna had already asked herself. But so far she had not found the answer.
CHAPTER FOUR
During the next few days Joanna was to realize that, until then, she had seen nothing which could be described as one of Roger’s “black moods .” But of the depth of depression into which he was plunged after his interview with Justin there could be no doubt.
He would not read, took no interest in food and accepted services done for him with an ungraciousness which tried her patience to the utmost.
More than once she wanted to bring Dr. Beltane out to him again, but Mrs. Carnehill, harassed as she was, did not seem to think it a good idea.
“Beltie is a good sort, but only seems to irritate Roger when he’s like this. And I think even Beltie knows it, for he says we needn’t call him unless Roger is physically worse.”
Joanna, remembering the
“I don’t think I know what you mean?”
“Don’t you?” His smile flashed at her. “Come now, d’you mean to tell me that you’ve never been tempted to play a part which you felt was becoming to your uniform?”
“I don’t think so. I —”
“Nor sheltered behind it? Retired into the cold impersonality of it, in order to get yourself out of a difficult situation? Nor, conversely, used the damned attractiveness of it for your own ends?”
Joanna said evenly: “If I did any of those things, wouldn’t that make me a very artificial person?”
His eyes mocked her. “No. Merely—a woman! And a woman must make her own armor—as she must make her own weapons. I’ve always supposed that a pretty nurse could use her uniform as either — on occasion.”
“Indeed? Well, it’s a point of view that’s as interesting as it’s highly imaginative! ” retorted Joanna.
“Not so imaginative! F o r instance, you are using your own against me now, just as you snubbed me yesterday with your professional ‘I usually enjoy my cases’!”
“Really? And am I employing my armor—or my weapons?”
“Oh, your armor! No doubt you’ll be keeping your weapons for bigger game—the Harley Street specialist, the highly eligible patient —”
Joanna rose abruptly. This foolish conversation had gone far enough. “Hadn’t you better go to Mr. Carnehill now?” she inquired coolly.
He had risen too. “I suppose so,” he said as they moved towards the door together. For an instant he laid a hand lightly upon her arm.
“You’ll remember our pact? That you will come to the Dower House when things get too much for you here?”
“Why should they ever do that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe they won’t. In that case, I should regard your visit merely as a formal call. But — I think you will come.”
To her chagrin, Joanna found no adequate reply to the cool effrontery of this assumption. As she hesitated, the door opened and Mrs. Carnehill came in.
“Ah, there you are, Justin,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was kept later than I expected in the city. You’ve had your dinner? Have you seen Roger?”
“On my way now. Miss Merivale and I have been keeping each other company over our coffee.”
“Well, do go to Roger. He was rather insistent. But”—she took off her gloves and nervously dragged them into a rag of tautness between her hands — “don’t quote more figures at him than you can help. He worries so —”
Justin spread his hands in a gesture which seemed to reassure her. “I can’t quote figures. I haven’t any with me. Just an overall picture of how things are going — that’s all he wants?”
“I—think so.” She watched him nervously as he left the room. Then she turned to Joanna. “They don’t care for each other, those two. But you liked Justin — didn’t you?”
It was a question which Joanna had already asked herself. But so far she had not found the answer.
CHAPTER FOUR
During the next few days Joanna was to realize that, until then, she had seen nothing which could be described as one of Roger’s “black moods .” But of the depth of depression into which he was plunged after his interview with Justin there could be no doubt.
He would not read, took no interest in food and accepted services done for him with an ungraciousness which tried her patience to the utmost.
More than once she wanted to bring Dr. Beltane out to him again, but Mrs. Carnehill, harassed as she was, did not seem to think it a good idea.
“Beltie is a good sort, but only seems to irritate Roger when he’s like this. And I think even Beltie knows it, for he says we needn’t call him unless Roger is physically worse.”
Joanna, remembering the
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