infection. You were there when I told your mother none of you ought to go into the room."
"I thought you meant my sisters."
"You equally—more, for you've already caught it from him once."
"I won't have a nurse."
"Mrs Hall has telephoned to the Institute."
"Why is everything done in such a damned hurry?" said Maurice, raising his voice. "I shall nurse him myself."
"Have you wheeling the baby next."
"I beg your pardon?"
Jowitt went off laughing.
In tones that admitted no argument Maurice told his mother he should sleep in the patient's room. He would not have a bed
taken in, lest Clive woke up, but lay down on the floor with his head on a footstool, and read by the rays of a candle lamp. Before long Clive stirred and said feebly, "Oh damnation, oh damnation."
"Want anything?" Maurice called.
"My inside's all wrong."
Maurice lifted him out of bed and put him on the night stool. When relief had come he lifted him back.
"I can walk: you mustn't do this sort of thing."
"You'd do it for me."
He carried the stool down the passage and cleaned it. Now that Clive was undignified and weak, he loved him as never before.
"You mustn't," repeated Clive, when he came back. "It's too filthy."
"Doesn't worry me," said Maurice, lying down. "Get off to sleep again."
"The doctor told me he'd send a nurse."
"What do you want with a nurse? It's only a touch of diarrhoea. You can keep on all night as far as I'm concerned. Honestly it doesn't worry me—I don't say this to please you. It just doesn't."
"I can't possibly—your office—"
"Look here, Clive, would you rather have a trained nurse or me? One's coming tonight, but I left word she was to be sent away again, because I'd rather chuck the office and look after you myself, and thought you'd rather."
Clive was silent so long that Maurice thought him asleep. At last he sighed, "I suppose I'd better have the nurse."
"Right: she will make you more comfortable than I can. Perhaps you're right."
Clive made no reply.
Ada had volunteered to sit up in the room below, and, according to arrangement, Maurice tapped three times, and while waiting for her studied Clive's blurred and sweaty face. It was useless the doctor talking: his friend was in agony. He longed to embrace him, but remembered this had brought on the hysteria, and besides, Clive was restrained, fastidious almost. As Ada did not come he went downstairs, and found that she had fallen asleep. She lay, the picture of health, in a big leather chair, with her hands dropped on either side and her feet stretched out. Her bosom rose and fell, her heavy black hair served as a cushion to her face, and between her lips he saw teeth and a scarlet tongue. "Wake up," he cried irritably.
Ada woke.
"How do you expect to hear the front door when the nurse comes?"
"How is poor Mr Durham?"
"Very ill; dangerously ill."
"Oh Maurice! Maurice!"
"The nurse is to stop. I called you, but you never came. Go off to bed now, as you can't even help that much."
"Mother said I must sit up, because the nurse mustn't be let in by a man—it wouldn't look well."
"I can't think how you have time to think of such rubbish," said Maurice.
"We must keep the house a good name."
He was silent, then laughed in the way the girls disliked. At the bottom of their hearts they disliked him entirely, but were too confused mentally to know this. His laugh was the only grievance they avowed.
"Nurses are not nice. No nice girl would be a nurse. If they are you may be sure they do not come from nice homes, or they would stop at home."
"Ada, how long were you at school?" asked her brother, as he helped himself to a drink.
"I call going to school stopping at home."
He set down his glass with a clank, and left her. Clive's eyes were open, but he did not speak or seem to know that Maurice had returned, nor did the coming of the nurse arouse him.
21 It was plain in a few days that nothing serious was amiss with the visitor. The attack, despite its dramatic
"I thought you meant my sisters."
"You equally—more, for you've already caught it from him once."
"I won't have a nurse."
"Mrs Hall has telephoned to the Institute."
"Why is everything done in such a damned hurry?" said Maurice, raising his voice. "I shall nurse him myself."
"Have you wheeling the baby next."
"I beg your pardon?"
Jowitt went off laughing.
In tones that admitted no argument Maurice told his mother he should sleep in the patient's room. He would not have a bed
taken in, lest Clive woke up, but lay down on the floor with his head on a footstool, and read by the rays of a candle lamp. Before long Clive stirred and said feebly, "Oh damnation, oh damnation."
"Want anything?" Maurice called.
"My inside's all wrong."
Maurice lifted him out of bed and put him on the night stool. When relief had come he lifted him back.
"I can walk: you mustn't do this sort of thing."
"You'd do it for me."
He carried the stool down the passage and cleaned it. Now that Clive was undignified and weak, he loved him as never before.
"You mustn't," repeated Clive, when he came back. "It's too filthy."
"Doesn't worry me," said Maurice, lying down. "Get off to sleep again."
"The doctor told me he'd send a nurse."
"What do you want with a nurse? It's only a touch of diarrhoea. You can keep on all night as far as I'm concerned. Honestly it doesn't worry me—I don't say this to please you. It just doesn't."
"I can't possibly—your office—"
"Look here, Clive, would you rather have a trained nurse or me? One's coming tonight, but I left word she was to be sent away again, because I'd rather chuck the office and look after you myself, and thought you'd rather."
Clive was silent so long that Maurice thought him asleep. At last he sighed, "I suppose I'd better have the nurse."
"Right: she will make you more comfortable than I can. Perhaps you're right."
Clive made no reply.
Ada had volunteered to sit up in the room below, and, according to arrangement, Maurice tapped three times, and while waiting for her studied Clive's blurred and sweaty face. It was useless the doctor talking: his friend was in agony. He longed to embrace him, but remembered this had brought on the hysteria, and besides, Clive was restrained, fastidious almost. As Ada did not come he went downstairs, and found that she had fallen asleep. She lay, the picture of health, in a big leather chair, with her hands dropped on either side and her feet stretched out. Her bosom rose and fell, her heavy black hair served as a cushion to her face, and between her lips he saw teeth and a scarlet tongue. "Wake up," he cried irritably.
Ada woke.
"How do you expect to hear the front door when the nurse comes?"
"How is poor Mr Durham?"
"Very ill; dangerously ill."
"Oh Maurice! Maurice!"
"The nurse is to stop. I called you, but you never came. Go off to bed now, as you can't even help that much."
"Mother said I must sit up, because the nurse mustn't be let in by a man—it wouldn't look well."
"I can't think how you have time to think of such rubbish," said Maurice.
"We must keep the house a good name."
He was silent, then laughed in the way the girls disliked. At the bottom of their hearts they disliked him entirely, but were too confused mentally to know this. His laugh was the only grievance they avowed.
"Nurses are not nice. No nice girl would be a nurse. If they are you may be sure they do not come from nice homes, or they would stop at home."
"Ada, how long were you at school?" asked her brother, as he helped himself to a drink.
"I call going to school stopping at home."
He set down his glass with a clank, and left her. Clive's eyes were open, but he did not speak or seem to know that Maurice had returned, nor did the coming of the nurse arouse him.
21 It was plain in a few days that nothing serious was amiss with the visitor. The attack, despite its dramatic
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