imagined for him. Life presented itself rather simply to him, as it does
to most men, and he easily dismissed its subtler problems from a mind
preoccupied with active cares. As far as Grace was concerned, she had
certainly roused in him an unusual curiosity; nothing less than her
homoeopathy would have made him withdraw his consent to a consultation
with her, and his fear had been that in his refusal she should escape
from his desire to know more about her, her motives, her purposes. He had
accepted without scruple the sacrifice of pride she had made to him; but
he had known how to appreciate her scientific training, which he found as
respectable as that of any clever, young man of their profession. He
praised, in his way, the perfection with which she interpreted his
actions and intentions in regard to the patient. "If there were such
nurses as you, Miss Breen, there would be very little need of doctors,"
he said, with a sort of interogative fashion of laughing peculiar to him.

"I thought of being a nurse once;" she answered. "Perhaps I may still be
one. The scientific training won't be lost."

"Oh, no? It's a pity that more of them have n't it. But I suppose they
think nursing is rather too humble an ambition."

"I don't think it so," said Grace briefly.

"Then you did n't care for medical distinction."

"No."

He looked at her quizzically, as if this were much droller than if she
had cared. "I don't understand why you should have gone into it. You told
me, I think, that it was repugnant to you; and it's hard work for a