Like the crack of a pistol the Senior Surgeon snapped the ivory paper cutter in two.

“All right then!” he said.  “Rae Malgregor, look at me!  Don’t take your eyes from mine, I say!  Rae Malgregor, if I should decide in my own mind, here and now, that it was best for you—­as well as for me—­that you should come away with me now—­for this week,—­not as my guest as I had planned,—­but as my wife,—­even if you were not quite ready for it in your heart,—­even if you were not yet remotely ready for it,—­would you come because I told you to come?”

Heavily under her white, white eyelids, heavily under her black, black lashes, the girl’s eyes struggled up to meet his own.

“Yes, sir,” whispered the White Linen Nurse.

Abruptly the Senior Surgeon pushed back his chair from the desk, and stood up.  The important decision once made, no further finessing of words seemed either necessary or dignified to him.

“Go and pack your suit-case quickly then!” he ordered.  “I want to get away from here within half an hour!”

But before the girl had half crossed the room he called to her suddenly, his whole bearing and manner miraculously changed, and his face in that moment as haggard as if a whole lifetime’s struggle was packed into it.

“Rae Malgregor,” he drawled mockingly.  “This thing shall be—­barter way through to the end,—­with the credit always on your side of the account.  In exchange for the gift—­of yourself—­your—­wonderful self—­and the trust that goes with it, I will give you,—­God help me,—­the ugliest thing in my life.  And God knows I have broken faith with myself once or twice but—­never have I broken my word to another!  From now on,—­in token of your trust in me,—­for whatever the bitter gift is worth to you,—­as long as you stay with me,—­my Junes shall be yours—­to do with—­as you please!”

“What, sir?” gasped the White Linen Nurse. “What, sir?”

Softly, almost stealthily, she was half way back across the room to him, when she stopped suddenly and threw out her arms with a gesture of appeal and defiance.

“All the same, sir!” she cried passionately, “all the same, sir,—­the place is too hard for the small pay I get!  Oh, I will do what I promised!” she attested with increasing passion.  “I will never leave you!  And I will mother your little girl!  And I will servant your big house!  And I will go with you wherever you say!  And I will be to you whatever you wish!  And I will never flinch from any hardship you impose on me—­nor whine over any pain,—­on and on and on—­all my days—­all my years—­till I drop in my tracks again and—­die—­as you say ’still smiling’!  All the same!” she reiterated wildly, “the place is too hard!  It always was too hard!  It always will be too hard—­for such small pay!”

“For such small pay?” gasped the Senior Surgeon.

Around his heart a horrid clammy chill began to settle.  Sickeningly through his brain a dozen recent financial transactions began to rehearse themselves.