The somewhat drawling tones of Miss Watkins’ voice were not at all in keeping with the activity of her wide-awake blue eyes.  A sense of this nurse’s speculation as to her presence there flicked Desire with little whips of irritation.  It is one thing to observe and quite another to render oneself observable.  She felt the blood flow hotly to her cheek.  Why had she come?  How could she have so far forgotten her natural reserve, her instinctive dislike of intrusion?  Desire saw plainly that she had allowed a regrettable sentiment to trick her into a ridiculous situation.  Satisfied curiosity is usually ashamed of itself.

And how absurd to have fancied for a moment that this blond prettiness could be Mary!

“I am afraid I cannot wait longer,” she murmured with polite regret.

“If there is any message—­”

“None, I think.  Thank you so much.”

With the departure of her caller, Miss Watkins’ manner underwent a remarkable change.  Professional coolness deserted her.  She stamped her foot and, from the safe concealment of the window curtain, she watched Desire’s unhurried progress down the street with eyes in which the blue grew clouded and opaque.  They brightened again as she noticed Professor Spence passing on the opposite side of the street, and became quite snappy with interest as she saw him pause as if to call to his wife, then, after a swift and hesitating glance at the door from which she had emerged, pass on without attracting her attention.

As a bit of pure pantomime, these expressions of feeling on Miss Watkins’ part might be misleading with-out the added comment of a letter which she wrote that night.

“I’m going to cut it, Flossy old girl,” wrote Miss Watkins.  “If you know of anything near you that would suit me, pass it on.  I think I’m about due to get out of here.  You know why I’ve stayed so long.  At first, I thought if we were together enough he might get to care.  People say I’m not bad for the eyes.  And I don’t use peroxide.  Well, I’ve made myself useful—­he’ll miss me anyway!

“It’s kind of hard to give up.  But I don’t believe it’s a bit of use.  I’ve noticed a difference in him ever since he came back from that western trip.  He doesn’t seem to see me anymore.  And there’s something else, a look in his eyes and a line along his mouth that were never there before.  I knew something had happened.  And now I know what it was.  Another girl, of course.

“And this girl is married!

“You might think this would make things hopeful for me.  But it doesn’t.  Doctor’s just the kind that would go on loving her if she had a thousand husbands.  So here’s where I hook it.  No use wasting myself, honey.  Maybe I’ll get over it.  They say everyone does.

“Funny thing—­she’s just the kind I’d think he’d go dippy over, dark and still, with a lovely, wide mouth and skin like lilies.  She is young, younger than I am.  But, believe me, she isn’t a kid.  Those eyes of hers have seen things.  They’re the kind of eyes that I’d go wild over if I were a man.  So I’m not blaming Doctor.  He can’t help it.