Visiting Consultant. Betty Neels

had treated Bill decently. All the same, he was too sure of himself, too certain of getting his own way.

      She went into the little office, and Dr Walker and Bill got up while she squeezed past them to sit in her chair. She was drawn at once into their conversation and was surprised to find how much she was enjoying it. Perhaps, after all, she need not avoid him—not when there were other people around. She became aware that Bill was speaking to her, and said,

      ‘I’m sorry, Bill—I didn’t hear you.’

      He flushed faintly. ‘I only wondered if you would mind if I took Penny to Hampton Court on Saturday afternoon.’ His flush deepened; the other two men had stopped talking and were listening. ‘I’ll bring her back after tea,’ he finished doggedly.

      Sophy gave him a gentle smile. ‘Of course you can, Bill. Stay to supper if you’re off duty; you’re the only one who can do her trig homework, anyway.’

      He gave her a grateful look, and got up to take the tea tray back.

      Sophy, aware that Jonkheer van Oosterwelde was looking at her intently, studied the off-duty chart on her desk, until she felt compelled to meet his gaze. Something in his expression made her lift her chin, and he chuckled. Kindly Providence, in the shape of Dr Walker, intervened.

      ‘That boy’ll make Penny a good husband one of these days,’ he said comfortably. ‘Not the sort to change his mind, either.’ He looked at Sophy. ‘About time you got settled, isn’t it, Sophy? How old are you?’ She didn’t resent his questions; she had known him for years; he had always been outspoken. She answered without rancour.

      ‘I’ve not found anyone who wants to settle with me, Dr Walker, and I’m twenty-six next birthday.’

      ‘God bless my soul, you don’t look it, Sophy. Luke will be finished in a couple of years, won’t he? He should try for an appointment here and keep an eye on the others while you go off for a cruise…’

      ‘A cruise, Dr Walker?’ She burst out laughing. ‘Oh, to find a husband. I’ll think about it.’ She got up. ‘In the meantime, I’ll get scrubbed.’ She skipped through the door, avoiding van Oosterwelde’s eye.

      The list was finished for the day, and Sophy was sitting in her office, neat and fresh in her dark blue and white uniform, writing up the theatre book. The men had gone some time ago. The theatre was ready again for any emergency; Staff was in charge; she herself was going home as soon as she could get her books done. She heard the steps in the corridor, and when they stopped outside the door, she called, ‘Come in,’ and as the door opened said, ‘Now don’t tell me, there’s an appendix in and you’d like to…’ She looked up. The professor was leaning in the doorway, his head carefully bent to avoid the door frame; the very epitome of a well-dressed gentleman of leisure.

      He stayed where he was and said, ‘Are you not off duty, Sister?’

      Sophy frowned. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly, ‘I am, but I have books and things to fill in. I can’t do them in the theatre,’ she said with heavy sarcasm.

      He looked indifferent. She shot a cross look at him, thinking that probably he thought she was inefficient.

      ‘I’ll not take up your time then. I wished merely to say that I have asked Penny and Benjamin to come out with me on Wednesday afternoon. It wasn’t until I heard young Evans asking your permission to take Penny out that I realised that I should do the same.’

      Sophy, listening to his cool voice, thought that he made her sound like a fussy aunt. It was her day off on Wednesday, too; she determined then and there to go away for the day—for the whole day, until quite late, so that there was no chance of meeting him. She raised a cheerfully polite face to his.

      ‘How kind of you,’ she said warmly. ‘They’ll love it.’ She allowed her hand to hover over the telephone, and he saw the gesture as he was meant to, and wished her a rather curt goodnight. She listened to his steps receding, and then got up slowly, said goodnight to Staff, and walked in her turn down the corridor to change, and go home.