'Gracious Heavens!' said Nurse Blaber, in a new voice. 'Oh, I beg your pardon. I forgot I wasn't paid to be surprised.'
'What at? Oh, I see!' Miss Henschil explained to Conroy. 'She expected you were going to kiss me, or I was going to kiss you, or something.'
'After all you've gone through, as Mr. Conroy said.'
'But I couldn't, could you?' said Miss Henschil, with a disgust as frank as that on Conroy's face. 'It would be horrible—horrible. And yet, of course, you're wonderfully handsome. How d'you account for it, Nursey?'
Nurse Blaber shook her head. 'I was hired to cure you of a habit, dear. When you're cured I shall go on to the next case—that senile-decay one at Bournemouth I told you about.'
'And I shall be left alone with George! But suppose it isn't cured,' said Miss Henschil of a sudden. 'Suppose it comes back again. What can I do? I can't send for him in this way when I'm a married woman!' She pointed like an infant.
'I'd come, of course,' Conroy answered. 'But, seriously, that is a consideration.'
They looked at each other, alarmed and anxious, and then toward Nurse Blaber, who closed her book, marked the place, and turned to face them.
'Have you ever talked to your mother as you have to me?' she said.
'No. I might have spoken to dad—but mother's different. What d'you mean?'
