Free Australian Hospital by Joyce Dingwell Page A

There should be a permanent therapist who would in time, perhaps, even find something to suit Miss Walsh. It is only a matter of patience, application, and elimination.”
    Candace stopped abruptly, rather shocked at her own daring. She had only been here one morning, and already she had put into words what Claire Flett had not found courage to in quite a few years.
    She had uttered them, too, to the great Doctor Halliday, esteemed visiting honorary, member of the Board.
    She stood waiting his censure, then as he remained silent, she ventured a timid: “I hear our dinner bell. May I please be excused, sir?”
    “Certainly, Sister. I recall your robust appetite on board. You and I were the only hardy ones in the saloon during the bad weather.”
    “And John—” Why had she added that, she wondered instantly.
    At once Stephen Halliday’s brows met in a hard uncompromising line.
    “You’re excused, Sister.”
    Candace turned and went sedately across to the dining room.
    In her chastened mood, she felt she would have preferred to run.
    Some minutes later Candace heard the car departing.
    A few minutes later again Eve Trisby came into the dining-room and sat down.
    She was not in a good mood. She snapped at the aide for some trifling fault in the service. She forked at the food, said, “This stuff gets lousier every day,” then pushed aside her plate and lit a cigarette.
    She was regarding Candace with spiteful eyes. Something seemed to have gone amiss with her scheming. She had allotted Jamieson that dismal mauve, but what had happened? The girl looked like a sprig of lilac—that’s what Ash had said. He had stood beside her on the lawn gazing through the window at Jamieson working in the ward, and he had said softly, “A sprig of lilac.”
    “... Sister,” she spoke abruptly, “you will wear the yellow overall to-morrow.”
    Candace looked up, surprised, but before she could comment Eve started off on another avenue.
    “What’s this I hear about you showing one of the aides how to use a thermometer?”
    “I showed Brenda Carl. She seemed eager to learn.”
    “Then see to it it’s her last lesson. You’re not here as Sister Tutor.”
    “But Sister Trisby, Sister Arnold saw me and she did not object.”
    “Is this true, Sister?” Eve had turned her cold beautiful eyes on the older woman.
    Candace saw now why Claire had said that Jessie Arnold was as weak as water. She fiddled with her spoon, then murmured lamely, “Yes, perhaps you shouldn’t waste time like that, Sister Jamieson. After all, it’s not what you’re here for, you know.”
    Eve leaned back, a spot of bright colour on each flawless cheek. She looked triumphant.
    A few minutes went by, Candace bravely tackling the Apple Float, then Eve spoke again.
    “You didn’t tell me you came out on the same ship as Ash.”
    “He was known as Mr. Halliday.”
    “But you never mentioned anything.”
    “There was nothing to mention.”
    “No—I suppose not.” The black eyes went contemptuously up and down the girl opposite. The scrutiny put Candace firmly into her right—so Eve thought—place.
    “There was someone, though. I learned that from the inevitable grapevine—‘‘ Eve laughed lightly, and exhaled. “Not that it’s worrying me. I know these shipboard romances. Besides, Ash is crazy over me—” She did not seem to care that she spoke before Sister Arnold and the young goggling aide.
    “Anything he started would only be a stop-gap until he returned here. I sent for him, you understand. I whistled, and he came.”
    She paused to relight her cigarette. For a fleeting moment the face behind the match was sharp and almost vixenish.
    “Did you see her?” she asked Candace. “A girl called Rosemary Tilburn?”
    “Yes.”
    “What is she like?”
    “Very pretty.”
    “I see. Wealthy?”
    “I believe so.”
    “It is very satisfactory”—Eve spoke deliberately—“to think that Ash keeps up his high standards, even when they are