Leaning forward he knocked the ash from his cigar and brought himself confidentially nearer.

“An open-air sanatorium,” he announced triumphantly.  “For tuberculosis patients.  There are lots of them,” and he waved his arm in a wide half circle, “coming out of the East on the run, scared to death, and with more or less money in their pockets.  It’s a big proposition, a sure money-getter.”

He grew more animated than she had ever dreamed he could be, as he sketched his plans.  While she was wondering why he had come to her with them he gave his explanation, made her his double offer.  Then it was that she was puzzled to know whether he meant to compliment her or merely to insult her.

In a word he assured her from the heights of superiority to which he had ascended these last few days of importance, the practice of medicine was no woman’s work at best; certainly not in a land like this, where a man’s endurance, breadth or mind, and keener innate ability to cope with big situations were indicated.  No work for a slip of a girl like Virginia Page.  Of that Caleb Patten assured her unhesitatingly.  But there was work for such as her and in a place which he would create for her.  Fairly bewildered at his audacity she found herself listening to his suggestion that she marry Caleb Patten and become a sort of head nurse in an institution which he would found!

In spite of her she was moved to sudden, impulsive laughter.  She had not meant to laugh at the man who might be sincere, who, it was possible, was merely a fool.  But laugh she did, so that her mirth reached Rod Norton where he lay upon his bed and made him stir restlessly.

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Patten, a flush in his cheeks.

“I mean,” stammered Virginia at last, “that I thank you very much, Dr. Patten, but that I can avail myself of neither the opportunity of being your wife or your head nurse.  As for my inability to do for myself what I have set out to accomplish . . . well, I am not afraid yet.  There is work to be done here and I don’t quite agree with you that it’s all man’s work.  There’s always a little left over for a woman, you know,” she added brightly.

But Patten was obviously angered.  He flung to his feet and glared down at her.  Perhaps it had not entered his thought that she could make other than the answer he wanted; it had been very clear to him that he was offering to become responsible for one who was embarked upon a voyage already destined to failure, that he would support her, merely doing as many other men of his ilk did and make her work for all that she got.

“It’s silly nonsense, your thinking you can make a living here,” he said irritably.  “I’m already established, I’m a man, I can have all of the cases I want, you’ll get only a few breeds who haven’t a dollar to the dozen of them.  If you are already broke and can’t even pay for your room and board . . .”