Free Consulting Surgeon by Jane Arbor

‘pernickety’!”
    He nodded carelessly. “They could be, if they stood alone. But perhaps you have some weightier qualities to balance them. I hope so.”
    “Such as?”
    But his only reply was a baffling shrug. “On our short acquaintance I wouldn’t presume to enumerate them. We mightn’t agree on their desirability.”
    “And that shall be the end of that topic,” thought Ursula, pressing her lips firmly against the temptation to pursue it. She was beginning to be wary of the way in which their conversation seemed always to drive dangerously towards a razor-edge of argument which sharpened little but their tempers. Her own temper, anyway. He had cooler control of his.
    After a pause she told him that when breakfast was over she would like to ring Mrs. Craig to tell her of their safe arrival and that letters could be sent to her at hospital, as from that day.
    “But you weren’t considering going in to hospital today, were you?”
    “I thought so,” Ursula hesitated.
    He crumpled his napkin and stood up. “My dear girl, I thought we were clear about this? That you would stay as long as your leave permitted if you were needed here?”
    “But am I needed?”
    “Of course. You were of great use and comfort to Lucy last night. She told me so this morning. And you can continue the work you have begun, if you will. The point is—will you? Or do you regret having sacrificed the rest of your leave to it?”
    “Of course not,” she retorted. “But I mustn’t intrude. It’s different for you. You have the standing of your relationship behind you here. But I should hate to feel that Mrs. Foster Damon should think that Mrs. Damon was turning to me for comfort instead of to her. They have only each other left, after all.”
    “Why should Averil feel anything of the sort?” he demanded.
    “Didn’t you feel last night that she resented her mother-in-law’s withdrawal into herself? She was inclined to be bitter about it, I thought.”
    “But how could that affect you?”
    “She might resent my intrusion—or any success I might have with Mrs. Damon.” (How else to interpret the glance of darting hostility which Averil had thrown briefly in her direction?)
    Matthew Lingard made a gesture of impatience. “Sheer imagination. Averil wasn’t herself last night, and she can’t but be grateful to you in the end. You must realize that Lucy and she don’t know each other very well. Foster was abroad during most of his marriage, and Averil was with him. They will have plenty of time to find a common ground of sympathy after you have gone back to hospital. And you can take it from me that for these few days my aunt will need you. Will you stay?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then that’s settled. You have to be back on duty—when?”
    “By Saturday evening.”
    “I’ll see that you are there. Incidentally, I am taking my own first Clinic on Tuesday. Meanwhile, we shall both have our work cut out here. For one thing, Averil seems to have fled from Egypt in such a hurry that she must have left chaos behind her. I don’t suppose she had ever troubled her head about Foster’s affairs, and if they hadn’t even a solicitor, I must take her up to my own man in London. Between them, Aunt Lucy and she are likely to give us a difficult few days, I think.”
    “Theirs is infinitely the harder part,” Ursula said gravely.
    “Infinitely, of course. And the pity of it is that there is so little one can do for them that time will not do better in the end.”
    For Ursula, no part of the following days was to be as difficult as the moment of her telling Mrs. Damon that she must return to duty on Saturday evening.
    As she had feared, it was she, not Averil, whom the old lady wanted constantly with her; it was for Ursula that she began gradually to recall her sad little memories of her son, and it was Ursula who sat beside her each night until she fell asleep.
    Her absorption of the girl’s time and attention inevitably threw