He was glooming out of the window over such thoughts as these when Helen, after seeing Lady Smith-Biggs start--despite her lunch--in a terrible fuss lest she should be too late for tea, came back to the drawing-room. Aunt Em, as always, had discreetly retired to her room, whether for work or sleep none knew, so they were alone. It was for the first time, and Helen seized her opportunity, for she had something she wished to say to him. So she crossed to where he stood, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets.
"Ned tells me you have made up your mind to Vienna," she said kindly. There was a sort of forlornness about this strong, capable man which always touched her.
"I have, Mrs. Tressilian," he replied somewhat defiantly. "I shall go to Pagenheim, and find out--things."
She smiled. "And come back, I suppose, to give No. 36 in the Queen's ward a chance of life?"
"If any one will provide me with a private hospital meanwhile, Mrs. Tressilian," he answered, "for I don't see my way to it otherwise."
She flushed a little eagerly, as if the conversation were taking the turn she had desired.
"I am so glad you say that, Dr. Ramsay," she replied, "for it helps me to say something. You know I have left the hospital--at least I am not going back. Now I have to live somewhere; where matters little. And--despite what you thought once--I am quite a decent nurse; a good one if--if I am keenly interested. If I were to take a small house outside Blackborough--or anywhere else--and--and make a regular surgical ward out of one room, would you--would you try that operation?"
He stared at her. "But why on earth----" he began.
"For many reasons!" she interrupted hastily. "Chiefly because I confess to feeling a responsibility."
"Or my lack of it!" he put in dryly. "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Tressilian; it would cost too much. To be frank--you haven't the money, neither have I."
"Money!" she echoed, a trifle scornfully. "Oh! it isn't a question of money. Ned would find that. I have spoken to him, and he is quite ready to help."
Peter Ramsay became very stiff. "That is extremely kind of him, and it is extremely kind of you also----"
"I am only thinking of No. 36," she interpolated warningly.
"I am perfectly aware of that fact," he replied; "but may I remind you of another--that No. 36 is only one out of, say, a million who are very possibly better dead and out of the way? My cutting him about might be a selfish pleasure; my duty might be--euthanasia!"