Nurse Blaber smoothed her pale hair. 'Yes. Your trouble, or something like it, happened somewhere on earth or sea to the mother who bore you. Ask her, child. Ask her and be done with it once for all'
'I will,' said Conroy. . . . 'There ought to be' He opened his bag and hunted breathlessly.
'Bless you! Oh, God bless you, Nursey!' Miss Henschil was sobbing. 'You don't know what this means to me. It takes it all off—from the beginning.'
'But doesn't it make any difference to you now?' the nurse asked curiously. 'Now that you're rightfully a woman?'
Conroy, busy with his bag, had not heard. Miss Henschil stared across, and her beauty, freed from the shadow of any fear, blazed up within her. 'I see what you mean,' she said. 'But it hasn't changed anything. I want Toots. He has never been out of his mind in his life—except over silly me.'
'It's all right,' said Conroy, stooping under the lamp, Bradshaw in hand. 'If I change at Templecombe—for Bristol (Bristol—Hereford— yes)—I can be with mother for breakfast in her room and find out.'
'Quick, then,' said Nurse Blaber. 'We've passed Gillingham quite a while. You'd better take some of our sandwiches.' She went out to get them. Conroy and Miss Henschil would have danced, but there is no room for giants in a South-Western compartment.
