"Of _course_ de-er. I was going to tell you." Miriam's restive anger would not allow her to attend fully to the long story. She wandered off with the dreadful idea of nursing a "semi-mental" sitting in a deck-chair in a country garden, the hopeless patient, the nurse half intent on a healthy life and fees for herself, and recalled the sprinkling of uniformed figures amongst the women crowded at the table, all in this dilemma, all eagerly intent; all overworked by associations claiming part of their fees or taking the risks of private nursing, all getting older; all anyhow as long as they went on nursing bound to live on illness; to live with illness knowing that they were living on it. Yet Mr. Leyton had said that no hospital run by a religious sisterhood was any good ... these women were run by doctors.... "You see de-er it's the best thing any sensible nurse can do as soon as she knows a sufficient number of influenchoo peopoo--physicians and others." "Yes, I see." ... But what has all this to do with me.... "I shall keep in correspondence with my doctors and friends and look _after_ myself a bit." "Yes, I see," said Miriam eagerly. "It's a _splendid_ plan. What did you want to consult me about?" "Well you see it's like this. I must tell you my little difficulty. The folks at thirty-three don't know I'm here and I don't want to go back there just at present. I was wondering if when I leave here you'd mind my having my box sent to your lodgings. I shan't want my reserve things down there." "Well--there isn't much _room_ in my room." "It's a flat box. I got it to go to the Colonies with a patient." "_Oh_, did you go?..." Nurses did see life; though they were never free to see it in their own way. Perhaps some of them ... but then they would not be good nurses. "Well I didn't _go_. It was a chance of a life-time. Such a de-er old gentleman--one of the Fitz-Duff family. It would have been nurse companion. He didn't want me in uniform. My word. He gave me a complete outfit, _took_ me round, coats and skirts at Peters, gloves at Penberthy's, a _lovely_ gold-mounted umbrella, everything the heart could desire. He treated me just like a daughter." During the whole of this speech she redeemed her words by little delicate bridling movements and adjustments, her averted eyes resting in indulgent approval on the old gentleman. "Why didn't you go?" "He _died_ dear." "Oh I see." "It could go under your bed, out of the way." "I've got hat-boxes and things. My room is full of things I'm afraid." "P'raps your landlady would let it stand somewhere." "I might ask her--won't they let you leave things here?" "They _would_ I daresay," frowned Miss Dear "but I have special reasons. I don't wish to be beholden to the people here." She patted the tendrils of her hair, looking about the cubicle with cold disapproval. "I daresay Mrs. Bailey wouldn't mind. But I hardly like to ask her you know. There seems to be luggage piled up everywhere."