During the past three days, their liking
had grown apace. Absolutely feminine, yet with the healthy
impersonality of a growing boy, Alice Mellen was a born comrade, and
Weldon enjoyed her just as, in her place, he would have enjoyed
Carew.
She came down the ward, that morning, and paused beside his chair.
"You look like your old self at last," she said, as she held out her
hand in congratulation.
"I might echo your words," he answered, while he looked up into her
eyes, shining with merriment and with something that yet seemed to
him closely akin to annoyance. "Granted the apron, you might be
pouring tea at home."
"Not tea; but malted milk, in these latter days," she said,
laughing. "But I am about to retire from your case. May I introduce
your new nurse, Mr. Weldon?"
His reluctant assent was changed to eager greeting. Light, swift
steps came down the room; a tall figure stopped at his side in the
full glare of a sunshiny window which all at once seemed focussing
its light upon waving strands and heaped-up coils of vivid yellow
hair.
"Cooee!" Then, too late, he bethought himself of his manners and
tried to bite the word off short.
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