stopped speaking to fill his mouth with scrambled eggs. She wondered how he could eat after making such a statement, and her own stomach revolted at the fleshy food. But relief at hearing that Dominic was not going to lose either his arm. or his life, steadied her reeling senses.
'A storm in a tea-cup.' declared Professor Jason, buttering a slice of toast. 'Get your breakfast, child. You've got work to do later.'
Ruth shook her head. 'I'm not hungry.' she said, folding her hands in her lap. but her father's disapproving gaze was compelling.
'Of course you're hungry,' he insisted, holding the toast rack towards her. 'Come along, eat up. One invalid on my hands is quite enough!'
'Leave her alone. Curtis, there's a good fellow.'
Doctor Francis's request was delivered in deceptively mild tones, but they both knew it was only slightly above a command, and Professor Jason's nostrils flared.
'You handle your patients. John.' he advised brusquely. 'Leave me to handle my daughter, if you don't mind.'
Doctor Francis laid down his knife and fork.
'Can't you see the girl's upset? The last time I saw a face like that was in the operating theatre, just before one of my students keeled over. Believe me. I know what I'm talking about.'
'Sentimental drivel!' exclaimed Professor Jason harshly. 'Ruth's not upset. Why should she be? Howard is a stranger to her.'
Doctor Francis looked at Ruth, and she returned his stare unhappily. She knew he expected her to say something in her own defence, but she couldn't. Not after the conversation she and her father had had the night before.
'Perhaps—perhaps I will have a slice of toast.' she murmured basely, and avoided Doctor Francis's eyes as she stuffed the dry bread into her mouth.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ruth had only a glimpse of Dominic that day. She was passing the bedroom later that morning when Doctor Francis came out, and he deliberately delayed in closing the door so that she might look into the room.
Dominic's eyes were closed, his face pale where it rested on the pillows. Celeste had complained that she had had to change the sheets twice during the night, and the whiteness of the covering contrasted sharply with the darkness of his skin rising above it. The unhealthy glaze of the fever was much less pronounced now. but his hair was damp with sweat, heavy strands straying across his forehead. Ruth knew a quite overwhelming impulse to go in there and bathe his temples with a cool cloth, and smooth away those untidy strands of hair. But of course, that was not possible. Her father had forbidden her to enter the bedroom, and he himself had emptied the drawers of her clothes, removing the necessity for her- to have any contact with their visitor. He was quite fanatical when it came to her association with the man. and she could only assume that it was his own dislike of him that motivated his actions.
Now Doctor Francis closed the door and looked down at her sympathetically. 'He's going to be all right. I promise you,' he told her gently, and Ruth made a helpless gesture.
'I don't know why I was so worried,' she commented, running a nervous hand round the back of her neck. 'Like Daddy said, he's a stranger—a drifter, probably. Why should I care about him?'
Doctor Francis's mouth softened. 'Don't you know?'
Ruth coloured. 'What do you mean?'
Doctor Francis shook his head. 'What are you. Ruth? Sixteen? Seventeen? Old enough to understand that one doesn't always need reasons for caring.' He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. 'You're growing up, Ruth. And I guess you've never encountered a man quite like Mr Howard before.'
Ruth drew back. 'What are you saying?'
'Oh. Ruth!' He gazed at her impatiently. 'I wish— oh. I wish—' He broke off abruptly, and turned away, saying as he did so: 'Didn't I hear your father telling you to finish some translation? I think you'd better go and get on with it.'
He would have walked away then, but she caught his arm. releasing it at once
'A storm in a tea-cup.' declared Professor Jason, buttering a slice of toast. 'Get your breakfast, child. You've got work to do later.'
Ruth shook her head. 'I'm not hungry.' she said, folding her hands in her lap. but her father's disapproving gaze was compelling.
'Of course you're hungry,' he insisted, holding the toast rack towards her. 'Come along, eat up. One invalid on my hands is quite enough!'
'Leave her alone. Curtis, there's a good fellow.'
Doctor Francis's request was delivered in deceptively mild tones, but they both knew it was only slightly above a command, and Professor Jason's nostrils flared.
'You handle your patients. John.' he advised brusquely. 'Leave me to handle my daughter, if you don't mind.'
Doctor Francis laid down his knife and fork.
'Can't you see the girl's upset? The last time I saw a face like that was in the operating theatre, just before one of my students keeled over. Believe me. I know what I'm talking about.'
'Sentimental drivel!' exclaimed Professor Jason harshly. 'Ruth's not upset. Why should she be? Howard is a stranger to her.'
Doctor Francis looked at Ruth, and she returned his stare unhappily. She knew he expected her to say something in her own defence, but she couldn't. Not after the conversation she and her father had had the night before.
'Perhaps—perhaps I will have a slice of toast.' she murmured basely, and avoided Doctor Francis's eyes as she stuffed the dry bread into her mouth.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ruth had only a glimpse of Dominic that day. She was passing the bedroom later that morning when Doctor Francis came out, and he deliberately delayed in closing the door so that she might look into the room.
Dominic's eyes were closed, his face pale where it rested on the pillows. Celeste had complained that she had had to change the sheets twice during the night, and the whiteness of the covering contrasted sharply with the darkness of his skin rising above it. The unhealthy glaze of the fever was much less pronounced now. but his hair was damp with sweat, heavy strands straying across his forehead. Ruth knew a quite overwhelming impulse to go in there and bathe his temples with a cool cloth, and smooth away those untidy strands of hair. But of course, that was not possible. Her father had forbidden her to enter the bedroom, and he himself had emptied the drawers of her clothes, removing the necessity for her- to have any contact with their visitor. He was quite fanatical when it came to her association with the man. and she could only assume that it was his own dislike of him that motivated his actions.
Now Doctor Francis closed the door and looked down at her sympathetically. 'He's going to be all right. I promise you,' he told her gently, and Ruth made a helpless gesture.
'I don't know why I was so worried,' she commented, running a nervous hand round the back of her neck. 'Like Daddy said, he's a stranger—a drifter, probably. Why should I care about him?'
Doctor Francis's mouth softened. 'Don't you know?'
Ruth coloured. 'What do you mean?'
Doctor Francis shook his head. 'What are you. Ruth? Sixteen? Seventeen? Old enough to understand that one doesn't always need reasons for caring.' He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. 'You're growing up, Ruth. And I guess you've never encountered a man quite like Mr Howard before.'
Ruth drew back. 'What are you saying?'
'Oh. Ruth!' He gazed at her impatiently. 'I wish— oh. I wish—' He broke off abruptly, and turned away, saying as he did so: 'Didn't I hear your father telling you to finish some translation? I think you'd better go and get on with it.'
He would have walked away then, but she caught his arm. releasing it at once
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