Twice she ran in for dinner, in uniform, desperately busy, arriving on the stroke of the dinner hour and rushing away five minutes after her coffee and cigarette, alleging as excuse the epidemic of influenza, consequent on the vile weather, which had woefully reduced the hospital staff.

She seemed to be feverish and ill at ease, and tried to cover the symptoms by a reversion to her old offhand manner.

As I was so seldom alone with her I could find scant opportunity for intimate conversation.

I thought that she might have regretted the frank exposition of her feelings regarding Leonard Boyce.

But she showed no sign of it.