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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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Mary shook her head: she could not trust herself to speak. Yes, that was true; quite innocently Richard had put the facts into words; that was the only reason he had invited her—not for her company, but because there was a matter to discuss. True, he was anxious to help her, but only because he had unwittingly been the cause of her present distress.

As Mary remained silent, Sir Richard spoke again.

Mary, please tell me, are the nurses still worrying you about that rotten affair?


It

s passing over now; they

ll soon forget,

Mary assured him.


I don

t believe you. Mary, look at me. Are you telling me the truth?

Mary raised her lowered lashes.

Honestly, it

s not too bad.

She hoped her words carried conviction; it was not easy to lie in face of Sir Richard

s pene
t
rating stare.

For a moment there was silence, then Sir Richard proffered his cigarette-case and lighted Mary

s cigarette for her. She was glad when he removed the match, for, while the tiny flame had illuminated her features, his gaze had searched her face as if there he would read the answer to his question.


You don

t seem well, Mary. You look tired and unhappy.

Sir Richard did not pause for a possible denial.

I noticed it when I met you this afternoon in the corridor. I am going away in a few days, and I don

t like leaving you like this.


But really,

Mary interrupted,

it

s absurd. There

s nothing for you to worry about. I am quite all right.

There was a hint of annoyance in her tone. She couldn

t help it; Richard

s concern, now she realized she loved him, hurt her more than if he had entirely ignored her existence
.
What was the use of it? Why should he worry about her?

There was only one girl Richard should concern himself with, and that girl was Veronica.


Mary, you sound angry.

Mary was amazed at the pain in Richard

s voice. Why did he insist on pursuing the subject? Why, oh why? Wouldn

t he leave her alone? But, far from leaving her alone, Sir Richard leaned across the table and laid his hand over hers.

It

s been such a wonderful evening ... I have enjoyed it tremendously. It was sweet of you to come. Don

t spoil everything now, please.

A startled expression leapt into Mary

s grey eyes. What did he mean? What was he saying? A wonderful evening! How had h
e
guessed? Had he read her thoughts? No, of course not; his words hadn

t really signified anything, nothing beyond an extravagance of speech.

I

m sorry, I didn

t mean to sound disagreeable.

A ghost of a smile played round her mouth.

It

s kind of you to want to help me, but what can you do?

Without removing his hand from hers, Sir Richard confined speaking.

I can

t do much—that is, as far as the hospital is concerned,

he amended.

But I have one suggestion to make; that you give in your notice.


And what on earth would I do then? I haven

t even qualified yet!

Mary exclaimed, aghast. Although she was vitally conscious of her companion

s hand on hers, she made no effort to move, because the thrill of contact afforded her a measure of comfort.


I have a suggestion to make, but please, before I make it, promise me not to turn it down immediately. At least give me your word that you will think it over.


I

ll think it over if you like,

Mary promised.

But it seems to me that you know what my answer will be beforehand!


No, it isn

t that I anticipate a refusal, but I have an idea that you are an independent young thing, and would turn down anything that savoured of a helping hand.

Sir Richard laughed.

Not that my suggestion will only help you, believe me; it will be of the greatest service to
me,
if you accept,

he assured her with feeling.

Mary at last withdrew her hand. Surely he

d think it strange if she allowed him to hold it any longer without protest. But Sir Richard seemed scarcely aware of the movement, as he continued speaking.


I want to know if you will go down to Frensham Manor and look after my mother. She is a frail old darling now, and I have to leave her alone much more than I like. She needs someone with her. There wouldn

t be much nursing, although she is somewhat crippled. Mary, she

d love to have you. Will you think it over
...
please?


It

s impossible I
...


Now then, what about that promise?

Sir Richard reminded her

You gave me your word that you

d think it over, however little the suggestion appealed to you.


So I did,

Mary agreed.

Well, I will think it over, but I

m afraid it won

t alter my decision. I appreciate your offer. It

s splendid of you to give me such a chance, but I have an idea that the job is manufactured for my particular benefit.

Her laughing eyes seemed almost blue as they challenged her companion.


That is not true. I

ve told you, your acceptance would be the nicest thing you could do, and you

d be taking a load off my mind,

Sir Richard insisted.


I

ll think it over. I promised I would. Does that satisfy you?

Mary pressed out the end of her cigarette. Now they had discussed the matter which had prompted his invitation, she supposed she

d better suggest going.

Would you like to be getting back now?

Even as she asked the question, her glance strayed again to the tree-fringed lawn and flowered borders, this corner of heaven which had brought her the gift of love, yet only to snatch it from her grasp.


Must we go yet? Are you in a hurry?

Surely there was genuine regret in his voice
?
But, Mary argued, it might not be her company he was reluctant to renounce; it might equally well be the beauty of their surroundings.


I

m not in a hurry
...
it

s just as you wish,

Mary murmured.

Sir Richard rose to his feet.

Then how about a walk round the grounds before we leav
e
?

He paused.

That is, unless you think it is too wet for your thin shoes,

he added anxiously.


Not a bit. I

d love it,

Mary agreed enthusiastically, as she rose and stood beside her companion.

Sir Richard slipped his arm through Mary

s and led her down the crazy-paved pathway towards the lake.

I know the way pretty well. I promise not to lose you.

He laughed.

That

s not so foolish as it sounds; these grounds extend quite a long way.

For some minutes they walked in step until they reached the lake. Here, Mary paused and gazed across at the mysterious darkness of the forest-land beyond. The wind had dropped, and hardly a whisper stirred the trees as the moonlight cast grotesque shadows across the water.


It

s lovely!

Mary breathed, hardly daring to break the spell of that pregnant silence.


It is rather awe-inspiring. I often think nature is at its most beautiful at night.

Sir Richard tightened his grip on her arm, and drew her closer to his side.

You love the country too, then?


I was brought up in the country ... we had lovely grounds
...
and father adored his garden
...

Mary bit her lip What had made her say that? She always made a special point of never referring to the life which had once been hers
.


I know
...
Veronica told me.

Sir Richard

s voice was gentle.

Poor Mary! Life has treated you harshly, hasn

t it? I think you

ve been a brick about it all.

Mary was glad of the covering darkness as she answered,

I haven

t done anything in the least praiseworthy. I had no option. I had to earn my living. There is no particular virtue in bowing to the inevitable.

Their footsteps at length took them from the water

s edge to the shadowy pathway beneath the distant trees. Here, there had been no attempt to interfere with nature

s handiwork, and the trees, many of them hundreds of years old, made a canopy over their heads, shutting out the moonlit sky.


Richard

—Mary whispered the name—

you brought me here for an special purpose—to ask me something
...
May I ask you something too?


Of course, but I hope I can give you the answer you want straight away, without thinking it over,

he answered lightly.


It isn

t quite that sort of question.

Mary paused a moment before continuing, then, plucking up her courage, continued,

I want to ask you about Veronica. I am unhappy about her. Isn

t there anything that can be done to help?


The future, unfortunately, lies in Veronica

s own hands,

he replied without hesitation. Mary was amazed at his complete sang-froid.


You mean that Guy will never give her a divorce?


I

m sure he won

t
...
willingly.

There was a hint of bitterness in the words.

One day he may go too far, then Veronica will get her chance, but I think it

s a futile hope, and meanwhile Veronica is wasting the best years of her life.


You think she ought to ... to go to the man she cares about?

Mary blurted out the words. Was it her imagination, or did she feel Sir Richard

s arm stiffen beneath hers
?


I think she should
...
but she lacks the courage.

BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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