Follow a Dream

FOLLOW A DREAM Marjorie Moore

It was a chance meeting with a stranger in Paris that had decided Julia to return to England, the place of her childhood. Wasn't it rather foolish of her though? So often she had seen this man in her dreams-but going to England wouldn't conjure him up in reality, would it? Yet, unbelievably, Julia did meet David Mellor again, and it was he in fact who helped her to find a nursing job there, at the hospital where she worked. But there was no reason for her to suppose that he would take any further interest in her; or that anyone, least of all an ordinary, naïve young girl like herself, would ever take the place of his dead, beautiful wife…

CHAPTER I IT is undoubtedly a disconcerting experience to catch one's train with a bare moment to spare, to have to fling one's suitcase into the carriage and to fall into a seat with a humiliating lack of dignity. It has, however, its compensations. There is at least no time for prolonged farewells; in fact, by the time Julia Dolland had sufficiently recovered her breath to lean from the window, the train was already moving from the platform of the Gare du Nord and the figure of Sister Marie Therese was only distinguishable from the groups of people left on the platform by her voluminous black, robes, and the white starched coif which framed her round, pink face. With a half-hearted wave, which might or might not have been seen by the mm, Julia closed the window and settled herself more comfortably in the corner seat of the compartment. For the first time she spared a glance for her travelling companions - only three other seats were occupied. On the corridor side, two women, obviously English, were leaning towards one another in conversation. True, they had lowered their voices, but, with that complete indifference which foreigners show to the possibility of anyone else understanding them, their words came clearly to Julia's ears. She was, in fact, so concerned by what she overheard that, for the moment, the third occupant of the compartment, her direct vis-a- vis, a man, half hidden by the newspaper he was reading, entirely escaped her notice. "Just fancy being as late as that for a long-distance train. . . . These Latin races are utterly irresponsible ... no idea of time. . . The speaker, well dressed in English tweeds with perfectly matching shoes and gloves, pursed her lips disdainfully, "They say the French are smart . . . Not a bad-looking girl, but did you ever see such clothes?"

Fearful of betraying the fact that she had understood, and, by now, made thoroughly uncomfortable by the disparaging glances cast in her direction, Julia quickly averted her face and stared unseeingly out of the window. The train was slowly passing through the outskirts of Paris and she knew that by turning her head she would see the white dome of the Sacre Coeur rising high above the city, dimmed no doubt by the wintry mist of early morning, perhaps just touched by the gleam of sunshine beginning to break through the enveloping cloud. Almost without conscious volition she found herself turning her head. It was all as she had known it would be, but the view, already indistinct, was blurred still more by the tears which had filled her eyes at the knowledge that every moment was taking her farther away from the only home she could remember. Julia kept her face averted while she made an effort to regain her composure. She wasn't really leaving home, she told herself firmly, she was going home, back to England, her own country, her own people. Some of those early years in England she could still recall, especially the tall white house in which she'd lived with her parents. It had stood at the corner of a square - there had been a small garden enclosed by high railings fronting the house, and an iron gate with a large, rusty lock. .. . She remembered, too, how gaily she and her parents had started off on that last holiday, the car loaded with luggage, straining against the ropes which held it firmly to the grid. Her excitement at crossing the Channel, how the spray had stung her face as she had leaned over the rails of the boat All those years ago, yet she could feel again as if it had been but yesterday, the thrill as she had watched their car, first suspended in the air, then dropped gently alongside them on the dock. At that moment the adventure had really started, that much- longed-for motor tour through France. How disastrously it had ended, although she had been too young to fed the full magnitude of the tragedy, and perhaps luckily had little recollection of the accident. It had happened just outside Paris: her parents had been killed instantaneously and she had been lovingly

cared for by the Sisters in the convent where she had been temporarily sheltered. She could dimly recall her uncle being summoned from London and his concern about her future welfare. A bachelor, with little or no knowledge of children, he must have been utterly at sea as to what he was expected to do with this leggy schoolgirl who had so suddenly become his responsibility. The offer of the nuns to keep her, and Julia's willingness to remain, must have been an enormous load off his mind. Julia had been happy at the convent. She had quickly picked up the language and before long it had come as easily to her as her mother tongue. Apart from an occasional visit from her uncle, the years had passed in unbroken monotony. She had soon forgotten she had ever known any other life and had settled contentedly into the milieu in which she had so unexpectedly found herself. Julia had naturally grown to accept the kindly nuns and the Mother Superior as her guides and mentors, and it was at their suggestion that, her education at the convent completed, she had ultimately passed on to the Hospice of St. Clare, which was run by the same Sisterhood and where for the past three years she had helped with nursing and learned some hospital routine. Apart from the Sisters, there had been other lay nurses; among them, too, she had found friends; she had loved the work and had soon become a quite useful addition to the nursing staff. She supposed she might have remained there for years - perhaps for ever, but, quite inexplicably, she had suddenly become dissatisfied. She couldn't even remember exactly when and how this first sense of restlessness had assailed her. For the first few weeks she had kept the knowledge locked in her heart; then, no longer able to conceal it and longing for advice, she had poured out her troubles into the Reverend Mother's sympathetic ears.

Mother Clementine had been both wise and understanding. Perhaps she had guessed that one day this English girl would want more of life than the Convent and the Hospice of St. Clare could ever offer; perhaps she had already felt that Julia had it in her to achieve more than the nuns could ever teach her, and with Julia's ambitious and vivid personality. Mother Clementine recognized how wrong it would be to dissuade her. Julia was advised to go back to her own country and take up nursing seriously, train at one of those large English hospitals; then, perhaps later, she would like to return.... Now she had burnt her boats, and already made conscious, by her fellow travellers, of her shabby, out-dated clothes, she realized that a tear-stained face would hardly add to her appearance. Julia need not have worried about that. Nothing could detract from the appeal of her curved, scarlet lips and the almost transparent beauty of her skin. Her dark eyelashes enhanced her natural pallor, and the red-gold hair which framed her face only added to that ethereal quality. The rustling of newspaper drew Julia's attention to the third occupant of the compartment. She bit bad: the smothered exclamation which rose to her lips as she saw his face.... No, it couldn't be, surely it wasn't possible? She half-dosed her eyes in an effort at concentration, reliving again that first time she had seen him. It wasn't difficult to recall; after all, it hadn't been so long ago, barely two weeks. It had been during a time of indecision. She hadn't been able to make up her mind, fearful of the years of monotony which lay ahead of her if she remained at the convent, yet afraid of taking the drastic step which would sever the link with the only life she had known. She remembered how she had visited Notre-Dame and knelt in a small side chapel. There had been a service in progress; she could hear again that tinkle of the bell, the pregnant silence which had followed, then the music which had filled the vast domed building with its glorious cadence, bringing joy and light into the shadowed darkness and echoing through its great vaulted space. As if fearful of her own footsteps she had

tiptoed down the stone-flagged aisle and, emerging through a small door, had walked slowly down the steps. The wintry sunshine was blinding after the dimness of the interior, and for a moment she had paused, blinking her eyes at the sudden transition from darkness to light. With an almost mechanical action she had stepped back for that last glimpse she could never resist - that almost awe-inspiring vista of the church with its two towers silhouetted against the sky. It was then she had seen him. Perhaps, if she had only just seen this stranger it might have been as any other with whom one brushed shoulders in any busy street of the city. But this had been different; so often she had seen just such a man in her dreams and now, by some stroke of fate, he had supplied the answer which she had vainly sought. Yes, it was through him she was seated in the train: although he remained completely indifferent even to her presence, he had unwittingly shaped her destiny. In stepping back to view the cathedral, partially blinded by the shaft of sunlight which had greeted her, she had stepped back incautiously into the stranger's arms. Julia cast a surreptitious glance at the man opposite. There was no mistaking his face, fully Revealed now he had lowered his paper, in fact returning her gaze with complete unconcern. Of course he wouldn't recognize her. How should he? Not only had both her face and figure been shrouded by the cape and hood worn by the lay nurses, but to him she had been a momentary and probably annoying disturbance, while to her he had been the personification of her dreams and the answer she had sought elsewhere in vain. He had swiftly put a hand beneath her elbow to support her while she regained her balance. It was then she had turned and met for one fleeting moment the penetrating blue of his eyes. The strong lines of his face were etched clearly in her mind, the firm lips which had smiled at her while their amusement was echoed in the tiny lines

which wrinkled the corners of his eyes. So many faces - faces all round her, yet instinctively she knew this to be an Englishman, knew it even before he spoke the words which had set the seal to her decision. "A beautiful sight, mademoiselle - but certainly not worth breaking your neck for... One day you must come to England and see what you think of St Paul's. .. She had murmured a few words of thanks in French, the language which now came so much more readily to her lips, then had hurried on her way. He probably hadn't even known she had understood his words and certainly had never realized the deep symbolism with which she had imbued them; How they had seemed to her an answer to her prayers, the guidance she had vainly been seeking. Now she was here - here on the train which would take her to her new life, and seated opposite her, as if it had all been predestined, was the man who had unwittingly brought it all to pass. "Lunch is served." The attendant, edging his way along the narrow corridor and swinging a bell suggestive of meal-time for those who might not have understood his announcement, glanced questioningly into the compartment. Despite the francs and English notes with which the Mother Superior had provided her, Julia's upbringing had taught her frugality. But this was a very special occasion, and throwing caution to the winds she rose from her seat. There was really nothing to worry about; her uncle would meet her in London. Even as Julia made her unsteady way along the corridor towards the dining-car, she felt instinctively that the stranger was following close behind. And it was scarcely surprising that as the dining-car tables were set on the one side for four persons and on the other for two, that, following one another's entry, the steward placed diem at

one of the small tables. It was obvious that her vis-a-vis was completely unconcerned as to his table companion, and although he waited for her to be seated before seating himself, from then on he seemed entirely unaware of her existence. Englishmen were notoriously reticent about conversing with strangers. Julia remembered she had always heard that, but this was just silly. The French were far more friendly. She bent over her plate to conceal the smile that curved her lips. She mustn't criticize the English ways. After all, she was English herself and all French standards must be set aside now that she was returning to the country of her birth. If coffee and liqueurs hadn't loosened her companion's tongue, then nothing would, Julia decided with 'some deep sense of regret Somehow she would have loved to exchange just a few words with this intriguing companion - in fact she longed to hear him speak again in his own tongue - her tongue. Just those few English words at their first meeting and now an occasional exchange of words with the steward - in decidedly uncertain French - that was all she knew of his voice. Pushing aside her empty coffee cup, she sat back in her seat. This was her last chance; it must be now or never! Seeing the steward already distributing the appropriate bills at the tables at the far end of the carriage stung her to action. Taking her courage in both hands, she leaned across the narrow space dividing them. "Excuse me, monsieur - perhaps you have forgotten, but we have met before." "I - I beg your pardon - I'm afraid I can't recall having had that pleasure." His voice was icily formal yet, behind his half-lowered lids, Julia was sure she could detect a gleam of amusement. To anyone more sophisticated than Julia that hidden smile would have been a warning; foolishly it only encouraged her to continue.

"Yes - surely you remember - just about a fortnight ago - in Paris," she went on eagerly. "Again I apologize, mademoiselle. I have no recollection." This time there was no mistaking the smile which hovered at the corners of his lips, but now Julia recognized it for what it was - amusement at her expense, recognition of what he must have believed to be an all too transparent effort to force an acquaintance. Murmuring an apology, Julia lapsed into silence, glad at least that her companion could not be aware of her quickened heartbeats and the burning sense of shame which engulfed her. That smile had completely crushed any further effort at explanation. She only wanted to pay her bill and escape. The steward approaching their table was now a welcome diversion and she was glad to bend her head over the fastening of her bag to hide her discomfiture. As she fumbled in her bag her fingers felt paralysed, and it was as if every ounce of vitality drained from her. It wasn't there! She hadn't her note-case - beyond a few odd francs she hadn't any money at all! Regardless of any effect her words might produce and no longer concerned with any scathing comment she was obviously inviting, she lifted her face beseechingly to her companion. "I -1 haven't got any money," she explained helplessly. "I - I forgot to bring it. . . . I mean, I didn't actually forget...." She went on breathlessly, "You see Sister Marie Therese was carrying it - the Mother Superior is so fussy about anything like that. She insisted that the Sister should have charge until we reached the train - then - well, you know how rushed we were - she forgot to give it to me! There were some francs and some English money. What on earth shall I do now?" The steward standing by the table tapped his teeth impatiently with his pencil. He couldn't understand what it was all about. Why couldn't the girl speak in a civilized tongue? Presumably she was arguing about who should pay for the meal. If the Englishman

wanted to pay, then why not let him? Refusing to waste any more time, he totted up the two accounts together, and slipped the bill determinedly towards the gentleman. "Perhaps you'll allow me to settle for your lunch?" The stranger counted out some notes, then leisurely lit a cigarette, dropping the dead match carefully in the saucer of his coffee cup. With an obvious intention of closing the conversation, he placed his serviette on the table and made to rise. "No - oh, please, just a moment!" The words were spoken before Julia had even time to think. "I ... I haven't even- thanked you— I don't know what you must think of me." "That hardly matters, does it?" Again an enigmatic smile curved his lips, but as he spoke he relaxed again in his seat. "I can't quite make out whether you're extremely naive, or— Oh, well, it's of no importance." He dismissed the question with an expressive gesture of his hand, then leaning slightly towards her across the small table, added: "You realize, I suppose, that you're likely to land yourself in some trouble if you really haven't any money." "Of course I haven't any," Julia responded indignantly. "You don't think I'd have eaten a lunch I couldn't pay for, do you?" "When you half-spilled your bag in your search, I noticed you have a second-class ticket; I suppose you know you're travelling first; there'll be quite a considerable excess to pay on that," he mentioned dryly. "Oh, no!" The exclamation was involuntary, then Julia lapsed into petrified silence while she searched again in her bag, this time for the ticket. "I'm afraid I'm right, aren't I?"

"Is this First - all this?" Julia looked round the Wagon Restaurant, gradually emptying of diners. "I didn't think about if; we were so late. I just jumped into the first carriage I saw. We shouldn't have been so delayed, but Sister Marie Therese is so obstinate - the bus was late." She paused and her grey eyes with their greenish tint stared into his appealingly. "What must I do now? Please tell me, what ought I to do?" "Since the ticket collector is now approaching - no doubt, seeking those he missed in their compartments - there doesn't seem much to do but pay up," he commented as he took out his note-case again and withdrew his own ticket. "But I've told you I haven't any money!" Julia repeated despairingly. "In that case perhaps you'll allow me—" He took the ticket from her hand where she still held it between her nerveless fingers and she watched him in a dazed silence while his ticket was duly examined and the extra payment made on hers. At one point where his French failed him, she even broke in to explain; she did it automatically, although deeply agitated by the whole proceeding. Before the collector had passed beyond range, Julia exclaimed anxiously, "It cost a terrible lot. Please make a note of all I owe you and I'll return it. My uncle is meeting me in London, at Victoria. I'll be able to settle with you there. He'll be glad of the opportunity to thank you himself." "I shall be delisted." He give her a slightly ironic bow as he stood back to allow her to precede him from the dining-car, but the glimpse she caught of his expression gave her an uncomfortable feeling that he gave as little credence o the probability of meeting her uncle, or even the existence of an uncle, as he had given to the rest of her story.

The wintry sun which had pierced the early morning mist had been of temporary duration, and by the time the train readied Boulogne a blanket of fog shrouded the town. Julia, leaning over the rail of the ship, could scarcely see beyond the gangways, and the figures on the dockside were no more than shadowy forms appearing, then disappearing, as drifts of mist hid them from view. The fog had both a chilling and penetrating quality and her teeth were chattering with cold when she turned reluctantly away from the rails to find a more sheltered position. How she'd have enjoyed a hot drink, she thought with envy as she passed the saloon where many passengers, no doubt depressed by the weather, had gathered at the small tables for tea. It looked so warm and so cosy! Squaring her shoulders, she took a firmer grasp of her heavy suitcase and hurried out of sight of the tempting scene. Remaining on deck hadn't been a very wise thing to do, Julia decided, since by now most of the seats seemed to be filled and those that were not actually occupied were carefully stacked with bag or rug to indicate ownership, and all the warm and sheltered places had gone. Tired, and by now depressed, Julia gave up the hunt and seated herself gratefully on the edge of a padded settee, exposed to every gust of wind blowing down the gangway. Resting her head back against the upholstered seat, she closed her eyes an her lashes lay dark-fringed against her cheeks. It seemed ages since she had eaten. What a disastrous lunch it had been, too, but anyway, she mused with an inward sense of amusement, she had luckily managed to enjoy her meal before the trouble had started! Her momentary amusement died away as she recalled again the stranger's ironic smile. How dreadful that he hadn't believed her. She supposed her suggestion that they had met before had started things off on the wrong note and then, surely, adults were expected to carry their own money and didn't have to be treated like small

children put in the care of the guard! But then the stranger didn't know Mother Clementine; he couldn't realize that she had fussed and fretted over Julia's journey to England as if she had been starting off on some perilous expedition! Julia smothered the sigh which rose to her lips. This man's opinion was of tremendous importance to her. She felt he mattered more than anything else in her life before. She knew she must shake off this absurd notion. She had built up a whole world of fantasy about a simple coincidence, it was both childish and wrong; once her uncle had settled her debt at Victoria, then she'd probably never set eyes on the stranger again. "So there you are. I wondered where you'd got to." Julia jerked herself from her reverie to find her lunch companion standing beside her, viewing her uncomfortable pose with a disparaging smile. "You've found a pretty draughty spot, haven't you? You look thoroughly cold and miserable. I came to look for you in case you wanted some tea." "Oh, I'd just—" Julia broke off, biting back the words of eager acceptance which had sprung to her lips at the suggestion. "Thanks, it's awfully kind of you, but I don't think I will - I couldn't take anything. I feel seasick," she concluded abruptly. "What utter nonsense!" For the first time Julia heard his laugh. "You're no more seasick than I am. Anyway, the sea is like a pond. Come along, you know you want a hot drink, you must be frozen in that thin coat - don't worry; we'll put it all on the ball for Uncle to settle." His blue eyes twinkled as he mentioned her uncle, but before she could make further protest, he had placed his hand firmly beneath her arm and helped her to her feet.

At the table in the dining saloon while they were being served with tea, she felt his eyes upon her. She knew that for the first time he was really seeing her, taking in details of her appearance - her face her dress. With an uneasy laugh, she made an apology. "I'm afraid I must look thoroughly disreputable, I overheard those two Englishwomen talking about me the moment I got in the carriage. They left no illusions." "Forgive me, was I staring? I didn't mean to be rude, but I happen to be a medical man and rather pride myself on my knowledge of human nature, but you have me completely baffled." A soft colour mounted Julia's cheeks. It might have been the effect of the warming drink or the result of her companion's glance. In either case it enhanced the perfect transparency of her skin and emphasized the shadowed depth of her eyes. "A doctor? ... Oh! .. The words were spoken barely above a whisper. The statement had roused within her a tumult of feeling. Perhaps, after all, this wouldn't be the end. . . . Who could tell? Maybe as a nurse she would meet him again. Raising her voice to normal level, she went on, "Do you work at a hospital? ... I mean any special hospital?" "I'm at St. Anne's, but if you don't know London I don't expect that conveys much to you." He stopped, then with a quick change of subject, queried, "By the way, is this your first visit to England?" "St. Anne's." Julia was making a mental note of the name. Of course she knew it! It was one of the large teaching hospitals, the sort of hospital she was hoping she might get into. Suddenly aware of his question, she replied vaguely, "I ... I ... oh, yes, I have been here before, but not for a long time. I am English, you know." "I'm sorry. I certainly didn't realize it. Your French is perfect. . . ."

. . And my English not so good!" she interrupted with a laugh- "You see, I've forgotten so much. I've only managed to keep it up by reading. French comes more easily to me now." "Are you intending to pay a long visit to England?" He asked the question casually, but Julia felt sure that he was still at a loss and anxious to place her in some kind of category. Possibly he still doubted her integrity. She had certainly not vouchsafed much information to reassure him. Somehow she felt it better not to try. She realized now that her tale of being penniless might have been enough to tax anyone's credulity and until her uncle had repaid her debt, and so restored her self-respect, Julia didn't feel like risking any further rebuffs. "Yes. I want to stay there and get a job. I've been so long abroad I wanted a change," she responded briefly, then went on, "Will you wait at the barrier at Victoria - I suppose there's a gate or something? You see, I might miss you, otherwise. Then when I find my uncle I'll bring him along." "Yes, of course I'll wait." There was an underlying note of either perplexity or doubt in his voice which Julia was quick to detect, but since he had turned to settle the bill, his face was hidden from her and there was no clue to be gained from his expression. "Shall I take you back to your seat. You left your suitcase there, didn't you?" He followed her from the dining saloon and back to her former seat. "We shall be in shortly now so I'll say au revoir - I'll see you at Victoria." After the steamer had finally docked at Folkestone, Julia had to wait in a seemingly endless queue for passport examination and Customs. A cold wind whipped round her legs and, although not as foggy as it had been, a swirling mist was her sole welcome back to the place of her birth. At least it was warm in the train, but by now it

was too dark to see the countryside, and she was glad when the first lights of outer London flashed across the smoke-grimed windows. The milling crowds at the station made it difficult to locate anyone, but as they gradually dispersed and the porters, with their top-heavy trucks, moved off towards the waiting line of cars and taxis, Julia was at last able to have a good look round. She only hoped Uncle Richard wouldn't be late. It would be dreadful if she had to keep the stranger waiting. But there must have been heaps of time for him to get her letter. She'd written immediately after she'd made her final decision and that was quite ten days ago. He'd always assured her on his rare visits that he'd be ready to welcome her whenever she wanted to visit London. There hadn't really been any need for him to acknowledge her letter. It had just said she was coming, and the time she would arrive. Apart from a small group of passengers gathered round the Customs barrier, Julia found herself quite alone and a frightening sense of panic assailed her as she gazed frantically around. He wasn't there! No use deluding herself any longer. Something untoward must have happened to delay him. That he hadn't turned up to meet her was fantastic, unbelievable. Overwhelmed with anxiety, she dragged her steps towards the barrier where she had asked the stranger to await her. The idea of facing him without her uncle appalled her, but she had no alternative and with a feeling of utter helplessness she approached the waiting figure. The. raised eyebrows and the ironical smile which curved lips as he saw her unaccompanied did nothing to encourage her, but she forced herself to return his glance squarely and lifted her dark-fringed eyes to meet his enquiring glance. "No - he hasn't turned up— I - I can't think what can have happened." Despite all the control she was exerting, her words were tremulous and uncertain.

"I suppose I was a fool to wait!" There was an ill-concealed note of irritation in the man's voice. "I trust you understand that I'm not in the least interested in your trivial debt. I didn't wait here for that!" He paused and his eyes held hers as he went on speaking. "I admit that I waited out of sheer curiosity. I suppose I wanted to know the end of your absurd story of lost purses, rich uncles and all the rest of it!" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Maybe I wanted to have to admit to an error of judgment. There are times when it can be gratifying to be proved wrong. Still, there it is, and it only remains for me to bid you good day." He inclined his head, then, turning on his heel, walked towards the cars parked alongside the wide platform. For a second Julia remained irresolute. Her feet felt rooted to the spot, then she found herself hurrying after his disappearing figure as fast as the restricting weight of her suitcase would allow. Regardless of manners or decorum she pushed through the few remaining passengers waiting for taxis - she mustn't lose sight of him whatever happened she must catch him up and explain properly. Disregarding a porter's warning she dodged by a heavily laden truck of luggage, only to catch up with her quarry as he was about to step into his car. "Please - please - just a moment." The words came in a gasp and it was perhaps as well that she was far too overcome with her own worries and her physical effort to be aware of the flash of annoyance which her reappearance had evoked. At least her unexpected arrival had had the desired effect since, without being deliberately offensive, the stranger could hardly instruct the chauffeur to drive on, and in fact he had little alternative but to alight again, however reluctantly, and await Julia's explanation. "Well, what is it now? Has this elusive uncle actually turned up?" His sarcasm was entirely lost on Julia.

"Oh, no - I don't expect he will now. Uncle would never be late. I've told you - something must have happened." She repeated her previous assertion, but she knew that it now lacked conviction. "You see, I had to speak to you again - you've been so kind - I've no one else to turn to - I don't know what to do—" "I should say the obvious thing was to go to your uncle's home," he observed curtly. "But I haven't the slightest idea how to get there. I don't remember London at all," she explained breathlessly; placing a detaining hand on his arm. "Please don't leave me until I've found him." The eyes she raised to his were appealing and her companion's expression softened. "Well, since you insist, I suppose we'd better do something about it." He spoke with quiet resignation, then turned to address the waiting chauffeur. "Keep an eye on this lady's suitcase, Reynolds. I'll be back in a moment." Turning again to Julia, he queried, "Is this relative of yours on the telephone? If so, perhaps we could ring him?" "Yes. I think so - in fact I'm sure he is." Relieved by his cooperation, the dreary station no longed oppressed her. It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds of her despondency and a smile of gratitude lighted her eyes. "I remember him telling me that, in case of emergency, I could always ring him from Paris." "I think that emergency has arisen," her companion responded grimly, as he led the way towards a row of telephone booths. Fortunately there was one unoccupied and they both crushed into the space available. "Now, what's the gentleman's name?"

"Walling, Richard Walling - by the way, I'm Julia Dolland," she told him as she watched bin take the appropriate book and flick over the pages. "Where does he live? You said you knew his address." "Yes, it's Sloane Grove - an apartment - what I think you call a flat," she explained eagerly. "We'll try that." After a few moments the number was found, and, inserting a coin, he dialled, then held the receiver to his ear. Julia found herself waiting with bated breath until, with a sense of relief, she heard him speak. In her agitation she snatched the receiver from him. "Mr. Richard Walling, please. Yes, that's right. Will you please put me through to his flat?" For a moment she waited in silence; then, as she listened to the voice coming across the wire, her revived confidence gradually left her. She thrust the receiver back into her companion's hand. "You talk to him - ask him to explain to you. I just don't understand." "Yes, I'm a friend of Miss Dolland's. She wishes to be put through to Mr. Walling," he stated firmly. There was a moment's silence, then Julia heard her companion speak again. "I see. I'm sorry to have troubled you." The instrument gave an ominous tinkle of finality as he rang off. "Your uncle isn't there. He was called away unexpectedly to the States a fortnight ago; he arranged for his flat to be sublet for three months. Both his valet and housekeeper left for the period of his absence." "Oh - h - h!" A long-drawn-out exclamation escaped Julia's lips. "What on earth do I do now?" "The first thing to do is to vacate this box. We seem to be collecting a queue. Come back to the car; we'll discuss it there." He placed an arm lightly beneath her elbow and she found herself being led back

to the waiting car. "Now get in. You'd better come back to my place and talk things over. It's far too cold to stand around here any longer." She allowed him to assist her into the car and tuck a rug round her knees, but it was not until the car had edged its way out of the station that he reopened the conversation. "Don't look so despondent. We'll think of something, but first of all I owe you an apology. So there was an uncle; not even the proverbial wicked uncle. It seems that he didn't even know of your intended arrival." "I wondered why he didn't acknowledge my letter. It didn't seem like him at all, but Mother Clementine told me not to be silly, that he was probably too busy and that he would never allow me to come unless he were prepared to meet me. I suppose he didn't get my letters at all - neither of them." "I expect that's about it." He instilled a note of lightness into his voice. "Anyway, don't look so tragic. I've told you we'll think of something. There must be hostels or hotels somewhere in London for lost young ladies." 'There must be!" Julia brightened visibly at the suggestion. "Any place would do just for a day or so. It's lucky Mother Clementine doesn't know. She'd be absolutely horrified." It seemed that it was only a short drive to her companion's home, since before there had been anything more than a short exchange of words, the car drew to a standstill before a tall house. It was too dark for Julia to have any idea of the true appearance of the house or the locality, although at that moment she was far too engrossed in her own problems to be even interested. "Come along in. If you're as cold as I am you'll be glad to see a fire." He inserted his key in the latch and swung back the door. "This is the working part of the house, consulting roams and so on. Living quarters are on the first floor. Come along up."

If Julia hesitated at all it was only to take in the strangeness of her surroundings. The first English home she had been in for so many years! The few French homes she'd seen had not been like this. The white- panelled walls were beautiful in their simplicity; the one piece of furniture, a heavy mahogany table, stood against one wall and above it hung a picture of flowers, a vivid splash of riotous colour. Perhaps mistaking Julia's sudden hesitancy for doubt, her companion turned towards her with an encouraging smile. Another door at the head of the stairs led into what appeared to be a self-contained suite. Julia had never visited any of the more modern apartments in Paris and the surroundings in which she found herself left her bereft of words. The room in which she now stood had the height and spaciousness of many of the older houses of London, but modern decorations and furnishings added to its attraction and the thick Persian rugs and deep-gold velvet curtains induced a feeling of warmth and well-being. A bright fire burned in the open fireplace and a small table drawn up near by was already set for a solitary meal. The silver cutlery and glass reflected the firelight glow, in fact everything in the room shone as if beaming a welcome. "Ah, Mrs. Benson, good evening! It's nice to get back home again." Mrs. Benson, who had entered the room unobtrusively, was a short, plump woman, dressed in unrelieved black; her dark hair was drawn tightly back from her forehead into a small bun so neat and tidy it looked to Julia like the painted hair on a china doll. The face it framed was not unlike a doll's either, so round and shining, almost as though that, too, had been assiduously polished. "This is Miss Dolland - my housekeeper, Mrs. Benson," He effected a perfunctory introduction. "Miss Dolland will dine with me here before Reynolds runs her to her hotel. Tell me, has anything

happened while I've been away? Are there any messages?" He divested himself of his overcoat and nodded to Julia to do likewise. "No, sir, nothing. Dr. Hands carried on like you arranged. This morning Mr. Willis phoned from the hospital. He'd be glad if you could run over there for a few moments after dinner. He said he'd like to see you." She paused as she picked up their discarded coats and placed them neatly over her arm. "I hope you enjoyed your holiday and had a nice journey back?" "Quite good, thanks; couldn't fly back, the planes were grounded by fog; that's why I'm late. Now hurry along that meal. Miss Dolland and I are starving." Julia waited until Mrs. Benson had dosed the door before speaking. "You realize, don't you, that I don't even know your name." "What an omission! Allow me to introduce myself. Dr. David Mellor - Miss Julia Dolland!" "Thank you." Julia seated herself in the chair which he drew closer to the fire. "It's kind of you to bring me back here - I feel I'm being an awful nuisance." "I suppose in a way you are!" His disarming smile took the sting from the admission. "But I owe you some return for the doubts I harboured as to your integrity," He seated himself in a companion chair and, stretching his legs towards the fire, sighed contentedly. "I must say I'm glad to be back." He pulled a pipe from his pocket and began to fill it. "You mean that you doubted the existence of my uncle? That you didn't expect to get repaid?" Julia persisted, disregarding his last remark.

"I've already told you that the money was a trivial matter, but I couldn't place you - I'm not sure that I can now. Tell' me, why did you decide to come to England and, now you are here, what job do you propose to look for?" "I came to England because I was quite suddenly seized with a sort of homesickness - at least I suppose it was that - can you be nostalgic about something you don't even remember?" Without awaiting his reply she went on, "It wasn't easy to decide to take such a drastic step, then you ..." She broke off quickly. No, she wasn't going to tax her companion's credulity again. Far better to keep on safe ground. "I want to get a nursing job in one of the teaching hospitals." "So you want to nurse?" "I am a nurse," she interrupted. "I've been nursing for nearly three years. It was a small hospital run by the Sisterhood of St Clare." The arrival of Mrs. Benson, with a loaded tray, cut into their conversation. When she had set a silver bowl of soup on the table she straightened up and spoke hesitantly. "There's one thing I forgot to tell you, sir. Bad news, I'm afraid. Miss Wetherley can't get back to-morrow; won't be back for another week. She phoned through this morning; she caught German measles from one of her young sisters. She told me to tell you how sorry she was to put you out, but she's arranged with an agency to send you a temporary secretary to fill in till she gets back." "That's bad news! Poor Miss Wetherley! Still, it can't be helped. I expect I'll manage." Mrs. Benson had scarcely left the room when he addressed Julia. "Is it such bad news? Anyway, it's a stroke of luck for you. Christine Wetherly is my secretary. She has been with me several years now.

Her people live somewhere in Essex. She found the daily journey too trying; I didn't want to lose her, so I leased a mews flat a few minutes from here. She's been living there some time and the arrangement works admirably. When I went to France she went home to stay with her parents. She has a crowd of young brothers and sisters - hence the measles! That's beside the point. She shares the flat with another girl, who's on the staff at St Anne's, in the Xray department. Now if Miss Wetherly is still away, her room will be available. Miss O'Rea will be only too glad to let you have it Even if it's only for a week, that will give you time to look around and find alternative accommodation." "You don't think Miss - Miss O'Rea would mind?" Julia asked eagerly. "Molly O'Rea is Irish. She has all the charm and hospitality of the Irish, and will welcome company. I've got to get along to hospital, but I'll drop a line of introduction for you to show to Miss O'Rea and Reynolds can run you round there." "You're awfully kind." Julia was glad of the interruption caused by the arrival of the next course. It seemed such inadequate thanks, but she felt too overwhelmed to find appropriate words. Fate - and this man together - seemed to be shaping her destiny and she was happy to follow unresistingly and with unshakable confidence. Over their coffee, served in the finest blue and gold cups, they chatted of desultory matters, then Julia, pluck- mg up courage, found the temerity to return to the question of her own affairs. "I expect I shall find a post within the week, so there won't be a question of other accommodation, but until I get into hospital, what do I do about money?" 'I'm afraid I'd quite overlooked that little matter." He smiled reassuringly as he recognized her troubled air. "I don't want to

disillusion you, but, if you have ideas of getting into one of the large teaching hospitals, you won't do that within a week. The more popular hospitals have waiting lists for trainees and it may be a matter of months. You might get into a smaller place or even find private work as you've had some experience; otherwise you must be prepared to wait" "It must be a teaching hospital," Julia insisted. "That was one reason I left Paris. I want to .train properly, take examinations and qualify." "I admire your intention and would be the last to dissuade you, but you'll have to have patience. You won't get into a real training hospital within a few days. That, as I've explained, is a waiting matter, unless of course you have some special recommendation or influence." "I have letters from the Hospice of St. Clare." "No doubt they'll help, but not enough." He drew his wallet from his pocket. "You must let me lend you some money." Recognizing Julia's instinctive shrinking from his action, he went on quickly, "You can repay me gradually as you start earning. Of course, Molly O'Rea won't expect you to pay her anything. You'll be her guest and mine - but you'll need fares to get around for interviews perhaps a few clothes." His eyes twinkled, eliminating all criticism from his words. Julia suddenly became aware of her companion's appraising glance. She did not know what a perfect picture she made with the firelight emphasizing the coppery glints of her hair which, now she had removed her unsightly beret, formed a soft halo of loose curls. "I should love to have pretty clothes. I shall one day, I'm determined to. It's no use waiting until I'm too old to want them, is it?" she asked naively. "I don't think you need worry about getting too old," he laughed. "In any case I've advised you to make a start now. Here, take this." He

pushed some notes into Julia's unwilling fingers. "I've told you you can pay me back when you like." Forestalling any argument, he rose to his feet. "Now, I suppose, I'd better see you on your way, then get along to hospital. John Willis is my houseman at St Anne's. Apparently he's worried about some case or other, I can't phone Molly O'Rea; she isn't on the phone; but I'll drop a few lines few you to take to her and I know she'll look after you all right." "You're very kind." Julia watched him as he walked over to the desk and, sitting down, began to write. The notes were still in her hand - a whole roll of them. She tucked them quickly in her bag, out of sight; having to accept them hurt beyond measure, but she knew of no alternative; beyond a few worthless francs she had nothing. 'Here's the note for Molly O'Rea." David Mellor handed her an unsealed letter. "Hand her this in case she proves to be a Doubting Thomas, as I was," he explained with a whimsical smile. "Now, I'll get your coat and take you down to the car. Reynolds will drop you while I'm changing into more conventional clothes. He can come back for me." "I don't know how to thank you . . ." Julia began as, having tucked her comfortably into the car, David Mellor extended his hand. She laid hers in his firm grasp. "You've been so kind—" "Nonsense!" He dismissed her stammering thanks. "I've told you I was only making amends. I wish you luck - I hope you find a post after your own heart, but don't get despondent if you have to wait for it," he warned her laughingly. Then, releasing her hand, he stepped back, straightened out his tall figure and closed the door of the car„ Julia turned back for a final wave as the car slid into motion, but the cold air without had misted the car window and all she could see was a tall, blurred figure, the face but a dimmed outline against the

lighted background of the open doorway. There were no definite features, no certain shape; it was just as she had always seen that shadowy figure of her dreams. .

CHAPTER II DAVID MELLOR had been right. Julia need have harboured no misgivings as to her reception at the mews flat. Molly O'Rea welcomed her with open arms and with such obvious pleasure that she left her in no doubt whatever as to her genuine feelings. "You're a heaven-sent gift!" she assured Julia. "In the way? Of course not! I hate being here alone. I'm scared to the teeth-chattering stage every night. I can't bear the long evenings without Christine now she won't be back for another week." Molly paused to throw the stub of her cigarette into the fire. "Here, let me help you take off your coat, then I'll show you your room - at least, Christine's room. We haven't got a spare: It's only a small flat, but we love it. It's pretty, too, when it's tidy!" she admitted ruefully. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a housekeeper - Christine sees to all that. She'd have a fit if she saw the state it's in now, but I shall give it a jolly good clean up before she gets back!" There was certainly a marked difference in the neat and ordered room into which Molly ushered her guest, from the littered sittingroom they had just left. It was sparsely but adequately furnished; there were a few ornaments about and one or two good etchings on the walls. The bed was covered with a pretty silk quilt and eiderdown and near at hand was a built-in bookcase with its rows of books arranged with precision. It didn't take long for Julia to unpack, while Molly kept up a running flow of conversation. As Julia pushed her empty case out of sight under the bed, she cast a surreptitious glance at her companion. It wasn't only her voice that was attractive. Molly, with her pink and white complexion, blue eyes and dark hair, was pretty, too, and was quite different from any girls Julia had ever known. Of course, they had been French girls; she'd never had an English friend of her own age, and certainly never met any girl to whom she had been so would break down any

barriers. She was so natural and friendly that Julia already felt she had known her for years. She slipped a friendly arm through Julia's. "Come along back to the fire. We'll have a cup of cocoa and a good heart-to-heart talk. I really know nothing about you yet - except what David put in his letter, and that wasn't much." "You know Dr. Mellor well? You call him by his Christian name?" "Good gracious, no! We all call him David at hospital - behind his back!" she explained casually, then pushing forward a chair close to the fire urged Julia to it. "Go on, you sit there. I'll put some cocoa on to boil. You must be tired. I suppose you've travelled from France to-day?" Without awaiting a reply, Molly disappeared into the adjoining kitchenette, and from the clatter of china which ensued, Julia imagined that, before the cocoa could be served, there might be one or two cups to wash up. Her offer of help being firmly refused, she relaxed in the comfortable chair and held her chilled fingers to the blaze. It was odd, but she felt no sense of strangeness. On the contrary, it was as if she had come home and was among friends. "Wasn't long, was I?" Molly set a tray on the table. "Here, have a drink." She drew a crumpled packet of cigarettes from her pocket and handed diem across to her companion. "Smoke?" "No, thanks, I'm afraid I don't smoke. I've never even tried." "Never even tried? I can't believe it!" Molly lighted her cigarette, then leant forward persuasively. "Do tell me something about yourself. Let's see, what did David have to say in that note he sent me? I scarcely read it." She twisted round in her chair and, leaning across to the desk, fumbled among a heap of littered papers. "Here it is! What awful writing, more like a prescription than a letter - hmm - hmm - let me see - To introduce Miss Julia Dolland.'" She looked

up with a laugh. "Anyway, I do know your name now! Has been nursing in France and has come to this country to take up a similar post' - hmm - hmm - 'Since she has no relatives or friends here, it would be doing me a great favour if you can take her in.' Charming but uninformative! Now tell me, first of all, are you a friend of David's? Have you known him long?" "No, I don't know him at all. I met him on the journey over to-day, that was all. He got me out of a terrible mess. I left my note-case behind and found myself with scarcely a franc. If it hadn't been for him I don't know what I'd have done. That wasn't all. I was supposed to be met in London - you see, I'm really a stranger here, I've not been to England since I was a child - but my letter didn't reach my uncle, and as he didn't come to the station Dr. Mellor made enquiries for me and we found Uncle Richard was out of England. I had no money and nowhere to go. I think you know the rest." "I say, how thrilling!" Molly drained her cup and, clearing a space, set it on a side table. "He is rather a pet, isn't he? Do you like him?" "I could hardly help doing so, could I?" Julia's lips dimpled into a smile. "He's been so wonderful, I shall never be able to thank him enough - and now you— I don't know how to thank you, either." "Oh, rubbish; you needn't thank me, but what's the programme now? Have you got a job fixed or have you got to find one?" "Oh no, I've nothing fixed. You see, I meant to stay with my uncle for a while, but now I'll have to find a post immediately. I want to get into a big teaching hospital and get my diploma - or whatever it is in this country--but the trouble is that Dr. Mellor tells me I'd have to wait my turn for a hospital like St. Anne's."

"Of course you will." Molly pushed back the mop of dark hair which framed the pink and white oval of her face and for a moment her blue eyes held a troubled expression. "Don't think I'm inquisitive, will you? But I suppose as you've no home here you can't afford to wait. I imagine funds are a bit low?" "They're non-existent!" Julia admitted. Then, only too glad to have someone to whom she could pour out her troubles, she went on, "I told you I left my money in France. It wasn't much, anyway, but then my uncle was supposed to look after me until I was settled in a job. Even if I wrote to the Mother Superior for the money, I don't believe she could send it over. Anyway, I couldn't ask her for two reasons: firstly, I'd hate them to know of my present predicament; and secondly; they can't afford to finance me. I must stand on my own feet --and as soon as possible. I can't presume on your hospitality too long; I understand Christine Wetherly will be back in about a week, so I must be fixed up in a hospital by then." "Then it won't be in one of the teaching hospitals," Molly asserted. "You won't be accepted immediately, as a student nurse, unless you already have some qualifications." "I've had three years' experience and have several letters of recommendation from the nuns and some of the medical staff who knew me." "Won't do," Molly retorted. "It may help, though. Anyway, there's no harm in trying. Why not tackle St. Anne's? If only you could get in there. At least I'd be around, so you'd know someone." "You can't imagine how I'd love it," Julia sighed. She would not only have Molly, whom she already looked upon as a friend, but David Mellor. He worked there, too; she might see him sometimes even talk to him....

"Don't look so dreamy. Let's get on with it." Molly roused Julia from her reverie. "Fish out those letters of recommendation, and we'll concoct a letter to Matron; something touching which will move her stony heart." As Julia rose to follow her companion to the desk, Molly continued, "At worst, it's only the waste of a stamp. You may merely receive a chilly refusal, or who knows, you might get an interview." Julia helped Molly push aside the pile of papers from the desk; bread bills, milk bills, circulars, and the most miscellaneous litter of letters which Julia had ever seen, Molly lifted a typewriter on to the cleared space. "Are you going to write it for me?" Julia asked. "I can't type and I doubt if my English spelling is good enough." "I'll write it," Molly volunteered. "Christine always lets me use her typewriter." As she slipped a sheet of paper on the roller in readiness she spoke meditatively. "I can't get it into my mind whether you're French or English." Then in a more matter-of-fact tone she added, "Now, what do we put?" "Better say I must get fixed up at once, that I've no qualifications but, as I've had three years' nursing experience, can't they give me a job without all the preliminaries, or whatever it is that delays things," Julia suggested; thai, opening her bag, she drew out an envelope. "Here are my testimonials. I suppose I'd better enclose them. I do hope she understands French." "Don't be silly. She certainly won't, but perhaps that's as well!" Molly teased. "Pop all the necessaries down there while I write the letter. I'll let you inspect it afterwards." Julia dropped the testimonials on top of the rest of the litter on the desk and turned back to her seat by the fire. "You are sweet to do this for me. Wouldn't it be a miracle if it worked? I'm afraid it won't.

Dr. Mellor was sure I wouldn't get in without waiting, unless I had special recommendation or influence." After considerable discussion and several fresh efforts, the letter was duly approved, the testimonials enclosed and the flap of the envelope stuck down. "I'll go and post it. Better know the worst as soon as possible." Slipping on a coat which had been adorning the back of a chair, Molly made for the door. "Shan't be a sec, the postbox is practically on the doorstep." Although the evening was advancing neither of the girls seemed inclined for bed. Julia had never believed that it would be possible to speak so freely with someone she had known for so short a time. "You'd adore St. Anne's," Molly told her. "I don't know much about the nursing side as I'm stuck in X-Ray, but the girls say it's marvellous training and they all seem to like it. . . that's if you like nursing at all. I just love my job, and having Christine to share digs with me makes me just about the most popular member of the staff." "But why?" Julia queried in bewilderment. Molly shovelled some more coal on the fire, dropping sundry lumps in the grate in the effort. "You see, it's like this," she explained, settling back in her chair. "Christine is David's private secretary, so I naturally get to hear from her lots of little bits of news about him, not important things. Christine would never tell state secrets, just bits and bobs. For instance, I knew long before the rest of the staff that he was taking this trip abroad. I know what hospital people he entertains; what his flat is like and his country cottage. I know he's crazy on music, and all about his new radiogram— Oh, and lots of things like that." "I still don't see . . ." Julia broke in, mystified.

"I'm just going to explain," Molly interrupted her. "Most of the staff are naturally interested in the doctors. They always have their ears cocked for any little titbit about them." Her cheeks dimpled into a laugh. "They think it wonderful that I should be so friendly with David's secretary. The way they envy me you'd think it was David I shared a home with, not Christine! I must admit he's one of the most popular members of the staff. He's considerate to the nurses and scrupulously fair. Naturally he gets rattled when things go wrong with his cases, or about any lack of organization in his wards, but he's a good bit better to work for than most of them. Not only that. You must admit he's a broth of a boy - that's my Irish way of saying he is heart-throb number one. He's a widower, you know - was married a very short time and lost his wife in childbirth. It all happened before Christine went to him, so I haven't really got the low-down on that affair. Some say he'll never marry again. Still, I suppose he's what one would call eligible. I can understand any girl getting a crush on him." " 'Crush' - I don't understand - 'heart-throb' - it's all most bewildering." Julia laughed apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm very dense." "No, I suppose you wouldn't understand, and I can't translate - my French doesn't go beyond 'La plume de ma tante!' Anyway, you couldn't be expected to know much about these things, having spent your life in a convent, but you'll soon learn! It's quite simple. When you get a crush on anyone it's just a kind of substitute for love. It hits just as hard; it's fun while it lasts; it's usually one-sided and the object of this temporary passion is generally completely out of reach!" "I see." Julia spoke softly while she was still digesting the information which Molly had given her. Perhaps she had been more revealing than she had realized. That strange emotion which David Mellor had kindled within her, that stirring of her heart and that odd

sense of elation she felt in his company. That then was a 'crush'. At least it afforded her some satisfaction to be able to give it a name.

Although Julia's first day in London had of necessity been spent alone, it was one of the most thrilling days she had ever known. After Molly's departure for hospital, she had set to and tidied the flat: that, she had felt, was the least return she could make to the absent Christine for the privilege of using her bedroom! Following that, there had been an exciting tour of the shops, at least the Oxford Street area where on Molly's advice she had set out to make her purchases. Although she had spent carefully it had been- a sheer joy to buy clothes without that lurking fear of criticism from Mother Clementine. For the first time she let her own taste ran riot and was delighted with the result. The deep blue coat moulded the lines of her slight figure and the colour brought into relief the coppery glints of her close-curled hair and the transparency of her skin. The dress, too, was such as she had always longed for, and the shoes, with their narrow arch and high-cut heel, were the most delightful she had ever possessed. The shops were, perhaps, not so glamorous in their displays as those she had seen in Paris, but it was all new, delightfully and excitingly new, and Julia found herself revelling in her unaccustomed freedom. After Molly had approved her purchases and listened to all the excitements of that first day, they had decided to go to a theatre, and although their seats had been tucked right away in the gallery, Julia had barely been able to conceal her excitement. Her outings in Paris, even when she had been independent and earning her own living, had usually been guided by Mother Clementine; an opera, a musical recital and, on rare occasions ,a play, but this performance had been quite different; a riot of laughter, song and dance, and such ravishing change of scenery that it had left Julia spellbound.

As she sat over the breakfast table with Molly on her second morning she was still reliving the joy of that day. Another long day stretched ahead in which to make new discoveries, to wander again, free and unhampered. "What do you intend doing to-day?" Molly's query interrupted Julia's thoughts. "I was just thinking. I want to see the picture galleries, the museums, the churches!" "You'll hardly do all that in a few hours!" Molly responded laughingly. "You know, you really ought to be looking for a job, calling on a nursing association or something. I don't hold out much hope of you getting into St. Anne's and you must get settled by the end of the week." "I know." Julia's high spirits were only momentarily crushed. "I ought to go to a bureau this morning, first thing, before I do anything else. I suppose it will be easy enough to get into a small hospital or nursing home?" "Good heavens, yes. Nurses are in short supply; there won't be any difficulty. Still, even then, you've got to put your name down for a job before you get one." "Yes, I know you're right. I'll go first thing," Julia promised, then queried, "More coffee?" "You bet I will! I've never tasted coffee as good as you make. You'll have to show me how you do it. It would be nice to do one thing more efficiently than Christine." "I'll show you," Julia promised. "Has the morning post come yet?"

"I think I hear it now." Molly flung down her serviette and rose to her feet. On her way to the door she paused. "I only hope you aren't banking on a reply from Matron. You know I'd hate you to be disappointed, but frankly, I doubt if you'll hear for ages." But when she reappeared in the sitting-room, she was breathless with excitement "By all the saints! You have heard! Here's a reply, crested envelope and all. Open it quickly and tell me what the old girl says. I'm so impatient I'll die of apoplexy!" With fingers which trembled Julia slit the envelope, then withdrew the single slip of folded paper. For a second she read in silence; then, when she lifted her flushed face and sparkling eyes to her companion, Molly scarcely needed words to tell her all was well. "Look, it's just a formal note, two lines, but it says I'm to be there for an interview at eleven this morning!" Molly took the letter and read it slowly, as if pondering each word, then folded it and handed it back to her companion. "It's certainly more than I dared hope for. I won't say you've got a job, but an interview is a good step on the way. Oh, Julia, I do wish you luck, although I believe you've already touched the Blarney Stone. May your luck last right through your interview and headlong into St. Anne's! Now go and pop on those new clothes of yours, then you can come along with me. It's better than finding your way alone. Of course, you'll be too early, but you can wait in my department until it's time; then I'll escort you to the dragon's den." "Oh, Molly....I'd love to come with you. I'm terrified already; honestly, I'm shaking in my shoes." "Well, don't shake in those lovely new ones or you'll spoil their shape!" Molly teased. "Just get changed. I'll wash the breakfast things, then we must get straight off or I'll be late."

The hospital, which they approached through a formidable pair of iron gates, seemed to Julia the most enormous building she had ever seen. The Hospice of St. Clare would have fitted into just one side of the stone- flagged courtyard, and she couldn't help wondering how the hurrying figures of nurses in their spotless uniforms, whitecoated students and doctors, porters and many other indistinguishable figures, ever found their way around such a vast and confusing place. "Here we are." Molly pushed open a door marked 'X- ray Department,' and as they walked through a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, she briefly described their purpose to her companion. "Believe it or not, I'm senior here. Senior radiographer, that is. We've a Sister- in- charge, J>ut she's more on the organizing side. It's yours truly that does the real work. I've got two other qualified radiographers and about six students under me. It's a job, I'll tell you, but I love every moment of it, Here's my office. Come in while I get changed. Take off your coat, if you like, because you can wait here and the heating is a bit overpowering. Someone must have been putting an extra shovelful on the boilers!" Julia made herself comfortable in a small arm-chair beside the desk while she watched Molly hang her outdoor clothes in her locker and don a white coat with a wide starched belt which closely encircled her neat waist. "You don't mind if I leave you here?" Molly asked. "I'll prop the door open so you'll see and hear what's going on, and I'll look in now and then, but I must go and give things the once over. I'll fix to have coffee about ten-thirty. You can come along, too, and then I'll take you to Matron." "Don't worry about me, please. I'm quite happy sitting here, and terribly interested."

Julia hadn't exaggerated. It was certainly an eye- opener to watch, the smooth running of such a large department. On her way to Molly's office she had glimpsed the extent of the department; the large rooms with their shiny apparatus; the rows of undressing cubicles; the reporting room with its range of viewing boxes for the films and the darkroom where the films were processed. How different from the X-ray facilities at St. Clare's - just one room with a small darkroom attached. But then, how different everything was! This was surely a hospital to which one would be proud to belong? She bit back a sigh. If only she could get in here! If only such a chance could come her way! "Miss O'Rea - where is she?" a voice outside the office door demanded of one of the white-coated staff. From Julia's point of vantage she imagined her to be a senior nurse since, in contrast to several white- and fink- belted nurses she had seen about, this girl wore a scarlet belt with a big silver ornate buckle encircling her waist. "Oh, there you are!" Since the conversation was taking place on the threshold of the small office, Julia could not fail to overhear it; in any case, the pitch of the nurse's voice was such that she obviously had no concern about keeping the discussion private. "I've three portable cases for X-ray this morning. I sent the requests down early and I insist on having them done right away. I've told you before that I won't have X-ray paraphernalia about during the ward rounds." "Sorry, Nurse Meredith." Molly didn't appear to be one whit abashed. "I can't send up yet, the portable is still in Surgical. I had two urgents from there this morning, probably operation cases. I had to get them done first."

"In future mine, too, will be marked 'urgent' if that's what it needs to get a little ordinary routine work done!" the nurse retorted, as she flounced out of the door. "Getting bored?" Molly asked, popping her head in the door for about the tenth time. "I shan't be long now, nearly time for break and coffee. Did you notice that thin, fair doctor I was speaking to a moment ago? He's rather nice. That's Dr. Hands; always deputizes for David when- he's away," she ended as she hurried back to her work. Coffee in the nurses' canteen was a further experience for Julia. Although the long tables were by no means filled, since the nursing staff took their morning break in relays, she felt she had never seen so many nurses together in all her life, and how smart they looked in their pink print dresses. Their different coloured belts, Molly explained, showed their rank. Staff nurses, red - that was the much envied colour - while the mere student nurse had to be satisfied with white and work her way through the varying shades .until she attained the coveted scarlet. "Oh dear, it's all so confusing." Julia almost groaned. "If I ever get into this place, the very prospect will terrify me before I even start work. I had no idea a hospital could be so large. It must take ages to find one's way about, and as to learning the rules and regulations - I wonder — could I ever do it?" "Of course you could, you silly!" Molly scoffed. "Why, at least, you've had some experience of nursing. Most of the students start from scratch. They haven't even been inside a ward, never seen anyone with anything more severe than a cold in. the head." She rose from the table. "Crane along, it's nearly eleven. I'd better take you to Matron's office."

With Molly's words of encouragement and good wishes still ringing in her ears, Julia lifted her hand and knocked timidly on the door marked 'Matron's Office'. An efficient-looking woman, probably a secretary, admitted her into an ante-room. "Miss Dolland? Oh, yes, you have an appointment, haven't you?" There was only a short wait before Julia found herself being admitted to the inner sanctum. A small woman, not in the least imposing, half rose from her seat behind a desk and extended a rather limp hand in greeting. "Miss Dolland, please take a seat." Julia sank gratefully into the hard chair, facing the older woman, who appearance was not encouraging. She might have been poured into her extremely tight-fitting navy dress, and its high collar, with a tiny white band, fitted so closely at the neck that Julia wondered how she could breathe! The small white frilled cap which topped her greying hair was drawn into a bow beneath her chin and only served to accentuate the severe lines of her face. "Let me see - ah, yes, I have your letter and testimonials here," Matron began, as she adjusted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles on her nose and pulled forward a sheaf of papers neatly clipped together. Julia readily recognized the letter on top, the one over which she and Molly had taken such pains. "I have gone into the matter very carefully. You must understand that it isn't our policy to engage any unqualified nurse - unless, of course, she enters as a student nurse and starts from the beginning in our Preliminary Training School. I'm afraid we can't consider any more candidates for that for at least three months, and then application must be made and each case passed by the Board. Your training would be thorough and comprehensive, and after preliminary instruction you would get experience in every type of nursing. Examinations are taken at the accepted intervals."

In her nervousness Julia lapsed into French. "Oui, madame, je comprends—" She broke off, flushing nervously. "Yes, Matron, I quite understand, but I must start at once." "You aren't foreign, are you?" Matron asked suspiciously, peering at her over the rim of her glasses. "No, I'm English. It's just that I've been nursing in a French hospital," Julia faltered. "Of course, these testimonials," Matron flicked them disdainfully with her finger. "These are naturally quite useless to us - it's qualifications that count; qualifications, nothing else," she ended firmly. "I quite understand," Julia repeated, then, not having the slightest idea what she was expected to say, lapsed again into silence. "It's only Dr. Mellor's letter which carries any weight with us at all. We always like to please our medical staff, and it is only because of his request that I have considered the matter at all." Matron again flicked over the dipped papers, revealing to Julia's horrified gaze the letter of introduction which David Mellor had given her for Molly! How on earth had it got to Matron? With speechless consternation Julia realized that Matron was re-reading it What on earth had it said? Frenziedly she searched her memory. 'To introduce Miss Julia Dolland . . . Has come to this country to take up a similar post ... It would be doing me a great favour if you can take her in. . . .' An icy chill seemed to engulf her as she recalled those written words. The letter must have got into the envelope by mistake! Among that litter of old bills and letters it was hardly surprising. Molly must have gathered it up with the testimonials which she had asked Julia to place on the desk. As if frozen to her chair, Julia sat tensed and staring. Her impulse was to snatch the letter away, yet something held her immobile and powerless to move.

"You must understand, even if I accept you and waive the preliminary training, I can only start you as a student nurse. The experience you've had means nothing here. There can be no question of promotion until you have passed your examinations and proved yourself capable." "I quite understand," Julia murmured once again, feeling that some sort of reply was expected of her but yet scarcely trusting herself to say more. "You don't look very strong. Are you in good health?" Matron's tone was more of an accusation than a question. "Oh, yes, I'm never ill." "Your engagement would naturally be subject to a satisfactory medical." Matron paused to glance down at the letter she still held in her hand. "I gather from this that you have no home or family in England, and wish to commence as soon as possible. To-day is Tuesday. I'll arrange for your medical to-morrow. If that is satisfactory, could you come in on Sunday and report for duty Monday morning?" "Yes, I'm sure I could." Julia spoke automatically. As yet the full meaning of Matron's words had scarcely penetrated her consciousness. She felt too dazed by the unexpectedness of the whole proceeding. 'There will be certain forms for you to complete, routine questions to be answered - the matter of uniform, too; you will be told exactly what you require. My secretary will give you a brochure of our training here, and she will explain anything else you wish to know." The rest of what Matron said during the next ten minutes' interview in that chill and miserable room, Julia scarcely even heard. It was as if only her body sat on the small hard chair. Her mind was miles

away, clothed in the misery of her doubts. She could not even remember escaping from Matron's presence or her subsequent conversation with the secretary. It was as if for that time she had ceased to breathe, until once again outside the hospital her lungs filled with air and a bitter east wind seemed to whip life back to her nerveless body. Although during the rest of the day Julia tramped the streets, the fascination of the great city no longer held her. She had no heart for museums or churches, even Hyde Park Corner with its imposing memorial and its massive arch left her unmoved and the park stretching beyond looked drear and forbidding with its leafless trees and flowerless borders. Crouching over the fire in Molly's sitting-room, Julia felt warm for the first time since that ghastly interview, but even then it was only bodily warmth; her heart was chilled and miserable. Molly's key in the door was like music in her ears and before her friend had had time to mount the stairs, Julia had forsaken the fire and crossed the room to fling open the door. "Molly! ... I'm so glad you're back. I've been just counting the minutes until your return. I've wanted to see you so badly - I just haven't known how to wait - something terrible has happened - really terrible!" she gasped. "The Holy Saints!" Molly stared at her friend in astonishment, then slipping an arm consolingly round her waist, closed the door and drew her across to the fire. "What on earth is the matter? You do seem in a state." Pushing Julia into an armchair, she flung off her coat and dragged the scarf from her head; then, seating herself on the arm of the chair, rested her hand consolingly on Julia's shoulder. "Come on, out with it, what's happened? Try and calm down a bit and tell me." In broken sentences Julia poured out her story of the interview, of David Mellor's letter and of what Matron had said. She told her

friend, without sparing herself, of her powerlessness to admit the truth, and of her certainty that only through the fatal letter had she been given a job at all. "... I wanted to tear it out of her hands. I tried to explain that the whole thing was a dreadful mistake - I didn't know what to say, I was so frightened of what would happen, I didn't seem able to move or speak." "Sure it's a fix and no mistake!" Molly whistled softly through her teeth while her forehead creased in perplexity. Before venturing to speak again she rose slowly from her perch on the arm of Julia's chair and stood gripping the mantel and staring into the fire as if there she sought a solution. "You couldn't have done anything about it," she asserted at last. "The whole thing was a ghastly fiasco; mine, not yours; I put that wretched letter in the envelope, not you - how could you have gone into long explanations to Matron; it would have sounded too fantastic - besides, don't you see what a frightful mess you would have got involved in? Matron would have felt she'd been tricked; she might not have believed it was an accident - she'd probably have thought it was a wangle to get an interview. Explanations would have become more and more involved and the whole works would have gone up like a rocket! No, I think you did the only possible thing; you kept your mouth shut. I don't see how you could have acted any other way; it was too late - the damage was done." "But don't you see how impossible the situation is?" Julia persisted tearfully. "Matron said - almost in as many words - that if it hadn't been for Dr. Mellor's request she wouldn't have considered my application." "That's true enough, but she hasn't lost anything over the deal, has she? I know Matron, and although I admit that a request from one of the medical staff goes a pretty long way with her, she wouldn't have lifted a finger to help if she hadn't approved you. She has done

pretty well out of it. She's got a nurse of three years' experience as a student; what are you worrying about?" "You know I'm not worrying unnecessarily." Julia dabbed at her eyes and lifted a tear-stained face to her companion. "The whole thing seems so wrong, getting a job under false pretences. Do you think I ought to tell Dr. Mellor what's happened? Could he explain to Matron?" "You can't get him involved and, frankly, I don't quite know how he'd take it. Of course he might think you ought to have put Matron wise on the spot - but then he doesn't realize what a devil that woman can be and he probably won't want to be bothered with a lot of explanations to her now. Actually, I can't see how it affects David. He'll probably never know what's happened. I know he doesn't like Matron and, according to Christine, he invariably gives her a wide berth. He never goes near her if he can possibly avoid it" "I see." Julia felt much calmer now she had unburdened her mind and had been reassured by Molly's sound arguments. There still remained that lingering doubt and she felt it would always remain but then perhaps it wouldn't If she could only justify her appointment to St. Anne's, if she could only become a really worthwhile member of the staff, then surely her conscience would be at rest? She had every advantage, she told herself, every chance; she had to start from the beginning, but her past years of experience wouldn't be wasted; she'd work as she'd never worked before, put to full use all that the Sisters had so painstakingly taught her. Then she could justify herself, justify Matron's acceptance of her, but, above all, she would be justifying the betrayal of David Mellor's trust.

CHAPTER III ALTERNATING moods of excitement and doubt had assailed Julia while awaiting her entry to St. Anne's. Now, after her first week as a student nurse, it seemed that her doubts had in some measure been Justified, although her principal feeling was one of delight that she had attained her wish, and, following years of aimless work, had at last embarked on a proper career. She had been allocated to a medical ward, where Sister James was both tolerant and helpful, the nicest Sister in the medical block, Molly had told her; but as if to keep the balance, to her discomfort she found that the staff nurse was the one with the overbearing manna: whose angry outburst she had heard in the X-ray department on the morning she was waiting for her interview. Bellamy Ward was one of the wards under David Mellor's supervision, and although he paid frequent visits, so far Julia had not seen him. The student nurses were usually banished from the wards during the consultants' visits, some packed off to lectures, others given jobs in the kitchen or linen room. To think that she had once believed that working at the same hospital with David Mellor would enable her to keep in touch with him! How ludicrous that seemed now; sometimes she wondered if she would have seen less of him if she'd found a job at the other end of the world! Julia scrubbed out the last locker of the row, then rising from her knees carried the bowl of soapy water through to the kitchen. "You can't empty that here," Staff Nurse rapped out impatiently. "Surely you know by now that dirty water should be emptied down the sluice?" "I'm sorry." Julia picked up the bowl and walked wearily back to the farther end of the ward. How she disliked Nurse Meredith, with her imperious orders and unsmiling manner.

"Dolland, Staff Nurse wants you." A few minutes later one of the student nurses put her head round the sluice room door. "She looks livid, too. You're in for it!" Julia felt sure that the warning was given with something like satisfaction. As she made her way back again through the ward she tried to tell herself she was wrong. Why should this pretty, fairhaired student bear her any grudge? The fault was probably in herself, because she didn't understand her present companions, "Yes, Nurse Meredith?" "Oh, there you are! It's time you were back; the cleaning up should have been finished ten minutes ago. Dr. Mellor will be here for his round any moment and I don't want you students clattering about. Go down for your coffee. And, by the way, I understand that you had your morning break in X-Ray yesterday. No doubt you were invited, but we can't 'have the students running all over the hospital and visiting the special departments. The nurses' canteen is there for your convenience. Kindly use it in future." "Yes, Nurse, I understand." Julia bit her lip to keep back any protest at the unjust reprimand. Surely in that short free time it didn't matter where she went. She was certain that Molly wouldn't have suggested anything that was irregular. "The other student nurses are going to a hygiene lecture after break. I'm short-handed here, so you'd better come straight back. You are more advanced than they, so I imagine you won't need it. Return as soon as you can and prepare coffee here, for three. Dr. Mellor and his houseman' will take morning coffee with Sister in her office after the ward round." Julia suffered a moment's indecision as she hurried along to X-Ray. She wouldn't have coffee there since she had been told not to, yet

she could hardly fail to turn up without giving Molly some kind of explanation. But she couldn't help hoping that the knowledge of her visit wouldn't reach Nurse Meredith's ears. "Hallo, Julia, I'm all ready. Come in the office and shut the door." Molly welcomed her friend into her cosy sanctum and pulled forward the chair. "Sit down, you look fagged out." She was already taking the percolator from the gas ring and setting it on the table beside the two cups. On Julians first visit Molly had thought it would interest her friend to visit the canteen, but normally she made both afternoon tea and elevenses in her own office. "I can't stay," Julia explained. "Apparently I'm supposed to go to the canteen; Nurse Meredith says it's against rules for me to visit the departments." "Stuff and nonsense!" Molly protested. 'That's a new one on me." "But I'd rather not. She may ask me and then I'd have to own up. I just came down to tell you, that's all." "I don't want to persuade you to stay—" Molly demurred. "How are things this morning? Any better?" "Oh, I don't know. . . ." Julia broke off, unwilling to worry Molly with her troubles. She had already been so encouraging, it didn't seem fair to demand so much of her sympathy and understanding. "You're worried, I can see that, but have patience, Julia! I know everything must seem strange to you, probably quite different from the hospital you were at before, but it's early days yet. You'll get used to it. I expect you find it a bit tough starting right at the bottom again, but Sister James is awfully good and if there's any chance of promotion, she'll see you get it."

"I don't really mind being a junior. I had no idea I had so much to learn. I'm afraid that in Paris I learned to run before I could walk. I realize more than ever now that it wasn't a real training at all." She laid her hand for a second on Molly's arm. "I feel a pig to keep worrying you with my affairs. You must be tired of me already." "Don't be silly!" Molly protested. "It does one good to get things off one's chest. What's the good of a friend if you can't do that?" Julia smiled her appreciation, then went on. "You were right about Sister James. She's given, me a few real nursing jobs to do. I enjoy that, of course, but sometimes I wander if the others don't resent it a bit," she ended doubtfully. "You'll never live among a large community like this without coming up against jealousy. You've got to live it down, that's all," Molly asserted practically. "They're a good crowd of nurses here; they'll get to like you - and you'll like them, too - but don't forget it takes time." "I know you're right," Julia admitted, then continued more heatedly, "That staff nurse! I don't believe I'll ever get to like her." "You mean Nurse Meredith? She's what one calls a — But then you wouldn't understand that, you've been too nicely brought up!" Molly interposed with a laugh. "Don't let her upset you too much. And by the way, as a matter of interest, it was to Joan Meredith's sister that David was married, so that makes her kind of related to him. I expect you've noticed how scrupulously polite she is to David in the ward, but in fact she heartily dislikes him. You see, she harbours some ridiculous notion that he was responsible for her sister's death. I told you, didn't I, that Antonia died in childbirth? Of course her resentment towards him is absurd, but then you have no idea of the almost fanatical devotion Joan had for her sister and how disappointed she was that Antonia married at all. Joan had always

expected her sister to devote her life to her career as a pianist and they do say she was exceptionally talented." "Now I understand what you meant when you said that living with Christine made you a mine of information. You've certainly told me quite a lot I didn't know. I mean, about Nurse Meredith. I suppose that's her secret grievance. Perhaps that's why she's so bad-tempered and difficult to please. I must say that the nuns were far more placid and easier to work for." "I can well imagine that!" Molly laughed, relieved to see how much more cheerful Julia seemed after their short conversation. "By the way, haven't you caught sight of David yet?" "Not once," Julia admitted. "But I probably shall this morning, because Nurse Meredith has asked me to get coffee for them after the round - his houseman, too." "That's John Willis. He's a pet, but I expect you know him already?" "Yes, he is always in and out of the ward, but of course, I've never spoken to him." Julia paused, then went on. "Molly, does Dr. Mellor know I'm here?" "Yes. I told Christine the whole story. Of course, she won't repeat to him exactly what happened, but I told her to tell him you'd been accepted as a student nurse." "Was - was Miss Wetherly horrified?" Julia asked anxiously. "Christine horrified?" Molly echoed with a chuckle. "Good gracious, no; she thought it a huge joke. Said it served David right for writing such a ridiculous note. She said it just showed how helpless he was without her to compose his letters."

"I'm looking forward to meeting Miss Wetherly." Julia spoke softly, as if for a moment she had forgotten Molly. "If she's your friend she must be nice." "You'd better stop calling her Miss Wetherly. She'd hate that. It's Christine in future, don't forget, and, if you're free to-night, why not come over and meet her? It will take you out of yourself for an hour or so." Julia gave her a grateful smile. "All right, but I must get back now. I'm just terrified of that woman." "—and you haven't had any coffee!" Molly shook her head mournfully. "Well, I suppose I'd better not keep you." She accompanied her friend to the door. "So long, cheer up, and ... and give my love to David!" she called out laughingly, as Julia was just disappearing from view. The round, Julia could see, was nearly completed by the time she got back to Bellamy. Hurrying to the small kitchen, she put the coffee on the stove and went to the cupboard to collect cups and saucers and tray. The china seemed pretty thick and awful after the lovely table appointments to which she knew David Mellor was accustomed. Still, she supposed he was used to it in hospital. "Ready yet?" Nurse Meredith put her head round the door, then, catching a glimpse of the tray, she flung herself across to the table. "Not that stuff, you little fool; haven't you any sense?" She literally threw the cups and saucers on to tie draining board; it was lucky they were thick or they would certainly not have remained whole. "In that cupboard down there; use your eyes - there in the corner. Fancy preparing a tray like that! A fine training you must have had at your last hospital. You don't seem to. have learned the first thing

about ordinary common decency! Ward china for the medical staff, indeed! I never heard of such a thing!" In the end Nurse Meredith herself set the tray, since Julia, rendered quite nerveless by the older girl's impatience, could do nothing but look on. It was only left to her to remove the coffee from the stove and set it on the tray. Then at her companion's terse instruction, she lifted it and followed her from the kitchen towards Sister's office. "Go and put it down on the table, then make yourself scarce," she hissed, then to Julia's amazement Nurse Meredith was able to turn an unruffled countenance to the small group just coming through the swing doors of the ward. "Ah, Dr. Mellor - and you, Dr. Willis, you'll have some coffee, before you leave, won't you? It's all ready in Sister's office." "Not for me, thanks, Nurse," Dr. Willis replied. "I've got to get down to O.P." Julia saw him turn to the tall, familiar figure of David Mellor. "You will, won't you, sir? We shan't be ready for you down there for another ten minutes or so." "All right, Willis. I'll follow you down presently." David Mellor was about to enter the open door of Sister's office when he suddenly caught a glimpse of Julia. "Just a moment - why, it's you, Julia, isn't it?" There was a note of pleased recognition in his voice. It was too late for Julia to escape even had she wanted to, and in any case she felt rooted to the spot. She knew she should have spoken, acknowledged his presence somehow, yet she felt bereft of words. It was Nurse Meredith's voice which broke in on that split second of silence. "Come, Dr. Mellor, your coffee will be getting cold." Although she directly addressed him she managed to cast a warning glance in Julia's direction, but it was too late. Julia had known she should just

smile acknowledgement of the greeting David Mellor had made, then go, but now she felt his detaining hand on her arm and he was smiling down at her, freezing her to inaction. "Well, how are you getting on? My secretary told me that you'd overcome all barriers and attained your wish. I hope you're very happy." As he spoke, that well- remembered smile curved his lips. "What do you think of St. Anne's? Does it come up to expectations?" "Yes - it's wonderful." Julia's voice sounded strained and unnatural. It was scarcely surprising since, although her back was half turned, she could feel Nurse Meredith's irritation without even seeing it. "I'd like to have a chat with you." He turned to the waiting staff nurse and threw her a disarming smile, then turned back to Julia. "Where can we go?" Perhaps sensing her reluctance to reply he led her towards the doorway to the small kitchenette which still stood ajar. "Come in here - it's a litde more private than the corridor." Before Julia was aware of what had happened she found herself standing before David Mellor in the ward kitchen with the door firmly closed. For a few seconds he scrutinized her in silence. Then his smile was replaced by an expression of concern and without preliminaries he came to the point. "You look tired; what's happened to those sparkling eyes of yours and that boundless vitality?" He seated himself on the edge of the kitchen table with one foot still resting on the ground. "Are you worried about anything?" The question was so direct and unexpected that it took Julia by surprise. She felt a flush mount her cheeks as she hesitated, seeking a reply. "I shall feel happier later - I haven't had time to get used to things yet," she answered evasively.

"Why not discuss your problems with Molly O'Rea? She can probably be more helpful than I - you are keeping in touch with her, aren't you?" "Yes, I don't know what I'd do without her." Julia spoke more freely. She was on easier ground now. "I'm going there this evening. I'm to meet Christine Wetherly. I feel I shall like her, too." "I'm sure you will." He stood up again and crossed to the door; there he paused, his hand resting on the handle. "I'd better go or I'll have Sister James on my track. Don't forget, if I can do anything to help you - just let me know." Alone in the confined space of the kitchen, Julia stood staring at the door which had now closed behind David Mellor. It was as if she could still feel his presence and the infinite reassurance not only of his words but of that parting smile of encouragement. The fact that he was concerned with her welfare was like a shaft of sunlight in the darkness, but it couldn't dispel her sense of guilt nor quieten her trembled conscience.

Although it had been a full week before Julia had as much as caught a glimpse of David Mellor, she was destined to see him twice that same day. The first part of that afternoon she had spent at a lecture. How she had delighted in every moment of that hour! She had worked mechanically for so long doing just as the nuns taught her; now she was, at last, learning the answers to the many questions she had so often wanted to ask. On her return from the lecture there had been another hour left before her day ended; a busy hour, too, when each patient had to be finally settled down before the night staff took over. She had been about to begin that task when she had seen him in conversation with his houseman; he had emerged from behind a screened bed in the corner. Julia, after her first start of

recognition, wasn't really surprised. She knew that Dr. Willis had been worried about that case and now no doubt he had called his senior into consultation. She was about to go off duty when Sister James beckoned her over to the corner where she had now joined David Mellor and his houseman. "Ever assisted with a blood transfusion?" Sister asked her. Then at Julia's quick nod, she went on, "Dr. Mellor thinks Miss Kane should have a transfusion this evening. Would you like to prepare the patient and assist?" "Yes, Sister." Julia tried to keep any trace of excitement from her voice. It was wonderful to be given a chance to show What she could do, even if the greater part of the day were spent in menial tasks - and for David Mellor, too! Julia was sure she had never prepared a case with such care and foresight as she did that first transfusion which she did at St. Anne's, She must have rechecked the instruments at least a dozen times, but Sister's smile of satisfaction when she came along to see that all was ready was ample reward for her pains. It was hard to keep her hands from trembling as she held the tourniquet while Dr. Mellor inserted the needle into the vein. His downbent head was so near hers that she found herself examining the high line of his forehead and she noticed, for the first time, that the dark hair, as it sprang from his temples, was powdered with grey. Yet he seemed so young, particularly when he smiled; but then, from what Molly had told her, life hadn't treated him too kindly; perhaps those silver hairs were a legacy from the past. How steady has hand was; how sure! Ready for the moment when the needle entered the vein, she loosened the tourniquet; everything had gone without a hitch; she felt ridiculously elated; she could have laughed at herself; she would never have

believed that such a simple operation could have meant so much to her. "Thank you, Nurse, that was splendid," Sister James murmured approvingly. "I'm afraid I've kept you late, but can you stay a few moments longer, until the night staff comes on, then I'll get a nurse to relieve you?" Julia held back the screen for Sister and the two doctors to pass, but to her delight, David Mellor allowed the others to precede him down the ward and stepped back -for a parting word. "Sorry you're late. You were going to Molly's to-night, weren't you?" "It doesn't matter what time I get there. I was going to change and have supper here first, anyway." He glanced at his wrist-watch. "I'll tell you what. I'll be at least another half-hour before I can get away. The flat, as you know, is a stone's throw from Wimpole Street. I'll give you a lift. I'll be outside the main gate. Meet me there as near half-past seven as you can." Although Julia's bedroom was hardly less austere than the one she had occupied at the Convent, it seemed a place of enchantment as she changed that evening for her rendezvous with David Mellor. Her conscience seemed momentarily lulled. At least she had, for a brief while, justified her presence at St. Anne's; she'd worked for David Mellor, and worked well. Perhaps if she could only become a really valued member of the staff, one day she would be able to laugh at her fears; perhaps she would be able to tell him frankly of Matron's mistake; they might even laugh about it together. Seven-thirty! Julia buttoned her coat and picked up her bag, then sped as fast as decorum would allow down the long corridor to the lift. David Mellor was waiting for her as he had promised; she was again in that lovely car which had brought than from the station, but

this time he was driving himself and it was even more exciting sitting in the front seat beside him with an uninterrupted view of the London streets. "This is so nice," Julia exclaimed, as the car sped along the embankment, then turned to go up Whitehall. "Except for the evening we came from the station I haven't been through London at night I went to a theatre with Molly, but we went by tube; I couldn't see anything." "I shouldn't think you could see much in this rain." He swerved to avoid a pedestrian who seemed bent on committing suicide. "London on a wintry, wet, cold night - it doesn't take much to please you, does it?" He turned and smiled at her indulgently as they drew up at the traffic lights. "Now, how about some dinner before you go to Molly's?" "It's kind of you, but I really couldn't—" Julia broke off, at a loss for words. There seemed no real reason why she shouldn't revel in this chance happiness which had come her way, and she began to wonder why she had even contemplated a refusal The explanation wasn't so far to seek. From that very first moment of meeting, in the shadow of the great Cathedral of Paris, this man had attracted her. He was no longer a phantom of her dreams but a real person invading her thoughts both night and day. Was this what Molly called a crush? Hadn't she said it meant caring for someone, usually out of reach? Although he sat close to her side, she knew it was as if a world separated them; that then was right - but then she had also called it a substitute for love. Did that also apply? It was all too complicated for Julia to find the answer. She only knew that David Mellor's presence awoke within her a deeper sense of peace and happiness than she had ever known.

David had chosen a small restaurant situated in one of the narrow streets of Soho. After a brief consultation with his companion as to her likes and dislikes, he took charge of the ordering, and after her first taste of the wine and the delicious hors d'oeuvres which were placed in front of her, Julia knew that, whatever meals he was served by his admirable housekeeper, he certainly knew good food. As if reading her thoughts he set down his wine glass and addressed her. "I don't think I'd better put this down on the account. I feel I owe you a meal after that abominable dinner Mrs. Benson served us the night we arrived from Paris." Julia laughed softly. "She isn't a very good cook, is she?" "Shocking, but she's so efficient in every other way that I feel I must put up with it. Needless to say I eat out whenever possible." "This is wonderful!" Julia spoke with feeling, then went on: "It's the first time I've been in a restaurant here. My only experience of English meals is the one I had with you, some very light snacks when I was that week with Molly - neither of us felt like bothering with much - and now the hospital meals, so you can imagine what a treat this is," she ended with a dimpling smile. "Would it be very personal if I told you how much I like your purchases - blue suits you admirably." Julia was sure that a flush rose to her cheeks as she sensed his glance; if only he'd turn away! But his look seemed to linger as he appraised her. She could not know how the candelabrum, fitted on the wall just above her head, was bringing out the coppery lights of her hair until it shone like spun gold; nor did she realize how happiness and excitement had brought that soft flush to her face which only served to enhance the almost unnatural transparency of her skin, and bring into startling contrast the dark, curled lashes

which cast their shadow below her eyes until they looked like deep green pools. "No wonder you managed to bend Matron to your will. I must say I was surprised at first. I know the lady isn't easily swayed, but in that outfit you'd move mountains!" No, not that! Julia felt her heart thump in her breast; his words had caused all those nagging doubts to spring to life again - she couldn't bear it; nothing must be allowed to interfere with this golden moment; just for this brief spell she longed to forget her conscience and its nagging secret. The time slipped by all too fast while she listened entranced to all David had to tell her of London; of the places she should visit; of their tradition and history. She could scarcely suppress a sigh of regret as she watched him settle the bill and don his overcoat which the attendant held in readiness. "I'll drop you off at the flat," he told her as he slid the car into motion. "It's only a few minutes from here. You won't be very late." "It's been lovely," Julia murmured as she sank back against the cushioned seat of the car. "You've been awfully kind." The words seemed inadequate, but their expression left him in no doubt as to gratitude. "Soon - when the days get a little longer - and a little warmer - you must let me take you in the car to some of the many beauty spots outside London." "I'd love to." The words were conventional and he could not have known how Julia would store that promise in her heart. She knew it was no idle invitation and she held fast to the hope of its blossoming into being, even as these winter days would ultimately turn to spring.

Julia's heart was fluttering with excitement as she waited to be let into Molly's flat. "Sorry I'm so late. I hope you didn't think I wasn't coming!" she exclaimed, when Molly opened the door. "Oh, I thought you might have taken the wrong bus or something, but it isn't really late. People have been trickling in all evening. As you may imagine from the noise, we've got, guests," Molly explained laughingly. "Come along to my room and take off your coat. I'll get hold of Christine and you can be introduced before you meet the others. You see, we thought it would be a good idea if you met some of our medical crowd and a few of your fellow students out of office hours', so to speak. It'll establish you on a more friendly footing with them. One good party here will do more for you than weeks of working together." Molly waved her hand violently to a tall girl in a navy and white trouser suit. "There, I've caught Christine's eye and she's elbowing her way towards us." As Julia passed the sitting-room, she could scarcely distinguish anyone through the haze of tobacco smoke, and for a moment her heart sank at the idea of having to meet all these strangers. Then, with a feeling of relief, she spotted the now familiar figure of John Willis and of her fellow student, Pat Brown, who rather surprisingly rushed up to greet her. "Hullo, Julia, I didn't expect to see you here. Thought you said you had a date." She glanced at Julia searchingly. "You look as though you've enjoyed yourself; you've got a lovely and most becoming colour. Come on, tell me who's the lucky man?" she queried with unconcealed curiosity. Julia put her hands to her cheeks as it to hide the telltale flush, but before she had time to reply to Pat's question, Molly forestalled her. "Wouldn't you like to know, Pat?" She spoke teasingly. "Well, Julia isn't telling, so that's that!" She slipped her arm through Julia's and led her towards her bedroom, and as she closed the door, she added

in a more serious tone, "I wasn't joking, you know. I imagine you dined with David, but it doesn't do to tell them anything; it only makes for gossip and jealousy, but don't worry your head about it," she advised as she saw Julia's look of bewilderment "I suppose you don't understand, but you'll learn!" Further conversation on the subject was interrupted by Christine Wetherly's entry, and as Molly effected a formal introduction, she added, "I don't think you two really need introducing. I've talked so much about you that I should probably think you know each other already." "I certainly feel that I know you," Christine assured Julia. "In some ways, I should have preferred to have you to ourselves this evening, so you must come again soon when we're on our own. But this party was Molly's idea, and it will certainly give you an opportunity of getting to know the hospital crowd better." Julia wished Molly had thought of anything rather than this gathering of strange and rather frightening young people. But as the evening wore on, she found herself less shy and ill at ease. Yet, despite everyone's show of friendliness, she couldn't rid herself of a certain feeling of detachment, as if she were unable to believe that she was actually taking part in this, to her, surprising gathering. When the guests rose to leave she was amazed to find how late it was, and she felt a strange reluctance that the carefree jollity was over. "It's been a lovely evening, Molly, thanks so much." "I hope you enjoyed it" Molly spoke a trifle doubtfully. "Of course I did!" Julia hastened to assure her. "I'm afraid I wasn't a very bright addition to your party, but then - well, I suppose I'm not very used to company."

"I expect it's all strange to you, but you'll adapt yourself in no time," Molly assured her. Then, lowering her voice, she added, "I'm longing to know how you enjoyed your dinner with David and how it came about. I want to hear all the details, but I haven't had a chance to ask you." Julia was only too glad to share her story of the evening and it did not occur to her to minimize the pleasure which David's unexpected invitation had afforded her. "It was marvellous, Molly. You've no idea how thrilled I was!" "Sure, but I have," Molly responded dryly, then went on, "Come on, we'll have to hurry or the others will be getting restless. John's going to pile you all in his car. It will be a bit of a squash, but it will be better than hanging about for buses at this time of night. Do try and pop down to X-Ray some time to-morrow; then we can have a real talk." "I'm off between two and four; I'll come down then," Julia promised, then went on, "I also wanted to tell you about the letter I had from Reverend Mother this morning. Uncle wrote to her from America, so she realized that I hadn't met him here." "Oh, Julia, how awful! Did she mind?" "I think it hurt her that I hadn't told her, although she's so understanding, she guessed it was only to spare her that I'd kept quiet. Anyway, I've got Uncle's address now. I'll be able to write him and find out when he'll be back in England. Not that it matters so much now I'm installed at St. Anne's - but it would be nice to know. You see, I've always that lurking feeling that I might have to leave." "You mean if they find out about that letter - are you still worrying about that? Don't be silly, Julia; it's a whole week; that file of yours

has been relegated to the limbo of forgotten things by now; it won't be taken out again until you apply for your pension!" Julia wondered on that homeward journey how much this little party of Molly's would influence her future relationships with these fellow workers. Seven squashed in a small car certainly made for 'intimacy, and as they sorted themselves out at the main gate there were suspicious sounds of kisses and a good deal of laughter. Julia felt that Bill Trent held her hand far longer than was necessary, and for one shattering moment she felt he might also indulge in a goodnight kiss. So, forestalling any such possible intention, she quickly flung her thanks for the lift over her shoulder and, leaving the others still grouped on' the pavement, hurried towards the nurses' home. Julia had never been late returning to her room before and the long corridors seemed strangely quiet and deserted; almost unconsciously she found herself tiptoeing past the rows of closed doors behind which she imagined most of the occupants already slept. One door, partially open, threw a narrow beam of light across the corridor, and she was just about to enter her room when a low call startled her to attention. She turned swiftly to find that the shaft of light across the corridor had now broadened and someone was addressing her from the half-opened doorway. "Is that you, Dolland - can you come here a moment?" Julia started at the unmistakable sound of Joan Meredith's voice. Through sheer habit she found herself wondering what she had done wrong, and, unconsciously, but not without some sense of relief, she noticed the crumpled late pass which she still held in her hand. "Yes - do you want me?" "Come over here. I can't shout."

Julia turned in the direction of the open door on the opposite side. Joan Meredith now stood framed in the doorway and with the light behind her silhouetting her tall, well-balanced figure, emphasized by the draped lines ,of her dressing-gown, she looked almost regal. It was the first time Julia had seen her out of uniform and she was amazed at the startling difference in her appearance. Her dark hair, usually knotted in a neat twist on her neck, now hung loose. It was thick and luxuriant and softened her features, making her look not only younger but almost pretty, while her brown eyes, which were her redeeming feature, seemed to have taken on a velvety depth of beauty. Julia stood hesitant before the older girl while she appraised her changed appearance, then, suddenly conscious of her stare, she broke the uneasy silence. "It's - it's very late. Did you want to speak to me?" she murmured diffidently. "Yes - I - I wondered if you had any aspirin in your room? I have an awful headache." Joan Meredith put her hand to her head as if to add truth to her words, but, to Julia, so accustomed to her usual poise and assurance, both her manner and the request seemed patently forced and untrue. "I have some cachets - I brought them with me from France. I expect it's a kind of aspirin - just a moment; I'll gt them for you." Without awaiting a reply Julia hurried into her room, glad of the momentary respite. While she searched for the cachets she found herself pondering Joan Meredith's strange manner; she'd not only looked so odd - after all, that wasn't so strange. Many girls put on- a different personality when they donned a uniform, but her request had, somehow, sounded so unconvincing that Julia could not help thinking it was merely an excuse to detain her. Anxious to get the thing over and get to her own bed, Julia wasted no more time pondering the problem but, finding the cachets, she hurried back. "Here they are. I usually take two. It depends on the severity of the headache. Maybe you'd better try one first."

"Come in a moment." Before Julia had time to make any excuse or protest, she found herself drawn into the room and the door closed. "Here, sit down." Joan Meredith pulled up a small wicker armchair. "You can stay a moment, can't you? I hate being left alone when I have a headache; it makes me so depressed." Julia was so astounded that she felt bereft of words. This was certainly a strange side to the staff nurse's character. She had certainly never imagined her capable of this kind of weakness. Her voice seemed to have softened, too, and if she hadn't considered it an absurd description to attach to anyone of that temperament she would have said it was almost cajoling; in fact her whole attitude, although guarded, seemed to have an air of appeal. Perhaps unconsciously seeking some diversion, Julia spoke. "Hadn't you better take the cachets? - shall I get you some water?" "Thanks, I have some here." With slow, deliberate movements Joan Meredith crossed to the fitted basin and, filling a tumbler with water, swallowed the cachets. Her actions as she carefully emptied and dried the tumbler seemed a deliberate playing for time, and Julia, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of her chair, felt the atmosphere strained and oppressive. "I really should be getting back. . . Her protest was peremptorily cut short by her companion. "No, sit down for a moment; a few minutes one way or the other can't make all that difference." She glanced at the small gilt dock on her overmantel. "It's barely midnight." Feeling powerless to protest, Julia seated herself again while she let her eyes wander nervously round the room. Except that it was somewhat larger, in its equipment it was an exact replica of her own, but Joan Meredith had certainly attained to heights of luxury which Julia hadn't even dreamed of. The few ornaments were of

undoubted Value and the green quilted bedspread matched the fine enamel dressing-set which graced the top of her table. But even the lovely cut-glass bottles and the oval mirror seemed to fade into insignificance beside a coloured portrait which, placed in a dominant position on the table, seemed to hold one's attention to the exclusion of all else. It was the most beautiful face Julia had ever seen - she caught her breath as she perceived some sense of familiarity - the rich, chestnut brown- of the hair, the clearly marked brows like soft wings above the shadowed hollows of the eyes. . . . "You are admiring that photo - that's Antonia, my sister. . . . She was David's wife." Julia didn't know why her companion's words should have ma<Je her flush almost guiltily. Of course, that was the explanation of that sense of familiarity. Joan could never have held a candle to her sister's looks, yet there was that indefinable likeness in expression and colouring. "Your sister was very beautiful." Julia spoke with as much calm as she could muster. In some strange way the subject of the portrait seemed to have increased rather than decreased the existing tendon. "She was the loveliest girl imaginable. She was a pianist and some called her a genius; she could have been world-famous if she'd lived." "It was very sad." Julia felt her words trite and unconvincing, but she had never felt more at a loss for expression. The absurdity of the situation was making her more and more self-conscious. Surely Joan Meredith didn't intend to keep her there at that time of night in order to discuss a sister of whose existence she had scarcely even heard? "Antonia should never have married; her genius belonged to the world, not to one man. She wasn't strong; she should never have attempted to have children - David knew that, and anyhow, he

should never have allowed her to travel to Paris for a concert when she was so far from well." The underlying criticism was obvious and Julia found herself powerless either to sympathize or comment. She felt herself unjustly drawn into a discussion about which she knew nothing and longed more than ever to escape from the small room which seemed suddenly to have become overpoweringly hot. "I really must be going . . ." she began, but her companion again interrupted her. "Now don't think I was spying, but just by chance I saw you. You were getting into David Mellor's car; you've spent the evening with him, haven't you?" Joan Meredith's eyes, like those brown eyes of the portrait, held Julia's in a demanding stare. Was this the crux of the matter? Was this the reason she had been inveigled into this unpleasant tete-a-tete? Julia was quite unused to feminine subtleties and was, for the moment, completely nonplussed by the turn the conversation had taken. "You needn't mind telling me. I saw you anyway, so a denial would be useless, wouldn't it?" The older girl's attitude was so ingratiating that it seemed like a stranger speaking. "There was this morning's affair, too - the way he shut himself in the kitchen with you. Why, it was quite unheard-of, and certainly the sort of thing which is bound to cause talk." While Julia still stared at her in wide-eyed perplexity, Joan Meredith went on in almost honeyed tones, "I was so surprised that I felt it my duty to report the incident to Sister. I was quite amazed when she explained to me that you were a sort of protegee of Dr. Mellor's; that it had been entirely on his recommendation that Matron had accepted you. I had no idea, but I must admit I wondered how you'd managed to get into St. Anne's without going through the preliminary training school; without any qualifications, either, and what training you've had seems to me to have been a bit sketchy."

Taking a grip of herself Julia sought for words and even when she spoke her voice sounded harsh and strange in her own ears. "Dr. Dr. Mellor has been very kind to me. "I'm sure he has. He can be a very charming person." Joan Meredith was now speaking in friendly and confidential tones. "Naturally, I know him well. At least, I used to see quite a lot of him when my sister was alive. That's changed now and apart from work we hardly meet at all. Still, it seems strange that when it came to a question of nursing that he didn't consult me about you. I wonder he didn't ask for my advice." "There wasn't any question of advice. I wanted to get into St. Anne's, that's all," Julia murmured while she struggled vainly for some way to end the conversation. "I suppose you've known one 'another for quite a time - in Paris, I mean. He's always rushing over there. I've often wondered why, but he's been so secretive since Antonia died; never tells me anything; I suppose you were the reason for these frequent visits. He must have known you pretty well to have recommended you to Matron." "Oh, no - I—" The words died on Julia's lips. What was she saying? To admit to nothing but a brief and so recent meeting with David Mellor would only arouse a host of questions, but worse than that it would surely lay bare her own deception. Julia could no more give voice to a deliberate lie than she could to the revealing truth which had trebled on her lips. The fear which held her in grip forced her to evasion. "I - originally met Dr. Mellor in Paris." "That's what I imagined!" Joan Meredith exclaimed with an air of triumph. "I knew there was some reason he kept rushing over to Paris, and when I first asked him - that was some time ago - I never could get a straight reply. Of course, I never question him now. If he

prefers to be secretive, I don't mind; that's his affair," she concluded with such ill-concealed resentment that it gave the lie to her words. Julia was far too disconcerted to care anything for her companion's attitude. She only knew that she had skated upon such thin ice that she was almost conscious of the hidden depths beneath her feet. It was with a feeling of intense relief that she heard her companion go on speaking. "I suspected that David had quickly consoled himself with another girl I guessed something like that had happened. I suppose I've really known for a long time." Still rooted to her chair, Julia watched her companion rise and cross to her table. Only her back was visible now, tall and graceful in the long draped gown. She seemed to be staring at the portrait, and in that pregnant moment of silence one could have heard a pin drop. Raising her hand, she gently moved the framed picture, only slightly altering the angle, then dropping her arm to her side, turned round again to face Julia. "He will never find anyone as wonderful as Antonia." The underlying' cruelty of the words seemed to spur Julia to life and almost without volition she found herself on her feet confronting her companion. Whoever David Mellor visited in Paris, Julia knew it was not she, and so that rapier thrust had no power to wound. "I've already been told how attractive your sister was," she responded coolly, making no effort now to avoid Joan Meredith's gaze. "I suppose Molly O'Rea and that secretary of David's told you." Joan Meredith spoke with contempt. "They talk far too much, those two, but for once they seem to have spoken the truth." "I really must go now - I hope your headache will soon be better." Julia crossed swiftly to the door before her companion could stop

her, and with a hurried good night she had flung herself across the corridor to the sanctuary of her own room. She was beginning to fed that she, too, could do with a cachet, yet no drug was likely to ease the turmoil of her thoughts. Just two weeks since she had left the sheltered life of the convent and yet in that short time she felt she must have passed through every gamut of emotion; her life had seemed monotonous before, but, at that moment, she would have given anything to be safely back in- that small world where everything had been so simple; free of human frailties and emotions with which she had previously never had to contend.

CHAPTER IV IT scarcely needed Molly's keen perception - or her affection for Julia - for her to realize during the following weeks that there was something amiss with her friend. Julia's delicate, almost fragile appearance had become more pronounced, her skin, pale in contrast with the russet glow of her hair, had now assumed an ethereal transparency, and deep blue shadows emphasized the grey-green pools of her eyes. It was the worry of being at St Anne's under false pretences which clouded Julia's working hours and kept her awake at night, and now, more than ever, .she bitterly regretted that she had lacked the courage to make a clean breast of things at the very beginning. That night in Nurse Meredith's room had been the last straw. It had shown her, all too clearly, the risk she was running, and she even wondered whether the staff nurse herself harboured doubts as to her integrity. Sometimes she seemed like a cat, ever alert and ready to spring, and yet once she had known of her connection with David she seemed to have been more tolerant: but Julia mistrusted this tolerance and she would have infinitely preferred Joan Meredith's previous attitude of criticism. Lack of money was no longer a problem, since once her uncle had known her to be in London, he had immediately sent her the name of his solicitors. A visit to them had elicited the information that she could have what she# needed within reason, since the small legacy her parents had left her had been accumulating in England, only awaiting her return to claim it. It had been a weight off her mind to be able to return David Meilor's loan, but underlying her pleasure at having that balance in the bank was the knowledge that, after all, there had been no hurry to enter St. Anne's. She could have waited her turn and enjoyed this experience without the persistent feeling that she had absolutely no right to be there at all. The fact that David might one day find out her duplicity was the crowning humiliation of it all. She had seen very little of him the last few weeks, but Ms very presence on the ward invariably made her heart beat faster. His

every smile and word were treasured, locked in her heart and brought back to memory in those moments when she felt she had reached the rock bottom of despair. Since Molly had been doing a period of late duty they had been unable to spend their evenings together, but to-night once more Julia was due at Molly's flat, and feeling curiously excited at the pleasurable prospect she found herself watching the hands of the large clock at the end of the ward as she and Pat dealt with the last jobs of the day. "Look out, you're pulling the drawsheet too tight!" Plat warned her. "You'll drag the whole thing out and I couldn't bear having to start all over again." Julia nodded agreement as she gave her attention more fully to her task and tucked the ends of the sheet carefully in place. "Sorry - I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "I expect you're all excited about your week-end - you are off today, aren't you? Doing anything nice?" "I don't know - I'm going out to-night, but nothing special otherwise," Julia admitted. "Why don't you take up with Bill Trent? Goodness knows he's keen enough! It's silly of you to keep refusing him. Stalling the way you do only makes for talk," Pat expostulated. Julia couldn't repress the smile which sprang to her lips. "I thought it made for talk if one did go out with the medical staff. Now you say it causes gossip if you don't!" "Don't be foolish! All the nurses go out with the students and housemen if they're asked; not with the visiting medical staff, of course, that's different - anyway, who would get the chance?" Pat ended with a laugh, then went on more seriously, "Haven't you got a

regular boy-friend? Well, all I can say is you're crazy to coldshoulder Bill. He's good-looking and any girl might be proud to be seen with him." Julia digested Pat's advice. She wondered if she was silly to repel Bill Trent's advances. He certainly was an attractive young man. . . . Her thoughts flew off at a tangent David was older, no doubt considerably older than herself; he had none of Bill's boisterous humour, none of the younger man's cheerful manner; yet his quiet restraint, his rare smile, and the occasional twinkle in his steely eyes meant more to Julia than all the compliments in the world; his slightest word of encouragement or praise was more precious than all Bill's gallantries. A hypodermic injection and the insertion of a draining tube were two more jobs to be done before they found themselves free to leave; then, carefully dodging the Staff Nurse, Julia tapped on Sister's office door. "May I go off duty. Sister? I've finished now." Sister James swung round from her desk where she had been writing up reports and, removing her spectacles, addressed Julia. "Yes, my dear - it's your long weekend, isn't it?" "Yes, 'Sister. I don't report for duty until midday, Monday." "That's right. Well, I hope you are getting away. You're looking tired. A change will do you good." "No, I'm not going away, but really I'm quite all right." Julia felt a warm flush mount her cheeks, but she felt it drain away as quickly as it had come as the Sister went on speaking. "I hope we aren't overworking you. I shall have Dr. Mellor after me if we do; since you came on his recommendation it's up to us to look after you, isn't it?" The words were kindly spoken and were

accompanied by a sympathetic smile. "Tell me, child, the work isn't too much for you,, is it?" "Of course it isn't," Julia protested quickly. "I love the work and I am learning so much." "That's splendid! Well, even if you aren't getting out of town, mind you have a good rest while you have the chance." Dismissing Julia with a nod and a smile she replaced her spectacles and returned to the work Julia's entry had interrupted. All along the corridors of the main building, then across the quadrangle to the Nurses' Home, Julia felt her knees like water. It seemed as if they would scarcely support her and she was grateful to reach her own room. The truth must come out, she told herself with something akin to despair; it couldn't remain a secret much longer. If Sister spoke of her to David she was bound to mention the fact that she was there on his recommendation - how could it be otherwise? With sheer determination Julia thrust back the disturbing thought. She must stop worrying; she really must! Crossing to the small mirror on her table she peered anxiously at her features reflected on the polished surface; she certainly looked tired and pale, and once more she wondered whether it had all been worth while; whether she wouldn't give all she possessed to be back in the peaceful little hospital of St Clare. What was monotony compared to a clear and untroubled conscience? Julia was feeling considerably better by the time she rang the bell of Molly's flat. A journey by bus and tube was still a novelty, and although winter had as yet not given place to spring, the night air had lost its bitter chill and the wind, blowing sofdy round her uncovered head, freshened and revived her.

"Come up. How lovely to see you!" Molly followed Julia up the flight of stairs to the sitting-room. "Take off your coat in my room. Chris is just finishing the cooking; she'll be with us in a minute." "Hallo - nice to see you; it's ages since you've been here; not since our party." Christine greeted her affectionately as she joined the two friends now seated before the sitting-room fire. "Supper won't be a second. Molly tells me it's your long week-end. What are you going to do with yourself? We happen to be fixed up; it's an awful shame. . . ." She broke off and turned to Molly. "We can't get out of our trip, can we?" "We've had it arranged for ages; I don't see how we could," Molly began thoughtfully, then suddenly struck with a bright idea, went on, "But perhaps Julia could squash in, too. John wouldn't mind and a breath of country air would do her good. She looks as though she needs it!" "Oh, no, I couldn't butt in like that," Julia protested. "It's sweet of you to suggest it, but, really, I'd rather not." Changing the subject, she asked, "Is it John Willis you're going with?" "Of course." Christine smiled teasingly at Molly, then returned her attention to Julia. "It's quite a case, didn't you know?" "I had no idea, but I think he's awfully nice." Julia spoke with warmth and feeling. "I imagine it's a foursome. I do hope you all have a lovely time." When the soup course was over, Christine piled up the empty soup cups and handed round an appetizing- looking salad. "Help yourself, Julia. There is some chicken in it, but I warn you you'll have to dig for it!" she said laughingly.

For a time the conversation was desultory, mostly of hospital affairs, while the three girls finished the salad and started on an excitinglooking trifle which Christine had decorated with infinite care. "Seems a shame to spoil the pattern," Molly laughed as she spooned a helping on to Julia's plate. Then, feeling that the more important part of the meal was over, she turned directly to Julia and burst out with the question which had been troubling her all evening. "Julia, what's the matter with you? I've seen so litde of you lately; we never seem to get together at all; when I get back to normal duty hours it will be easier, but I must know; you've looked so washed out. Don't you like St. Anne's? Is the work too hard? Is old Meredith troubling you?" "So many questions! Which do I answer first?" Julia struggled to bring a note of levity into her voice. "I suppose I'd better take them in turn. I love St. Anne's - I mean the work, and anyway, that's all it really means to me." "Then what's the matter?" Molly asked shortly. "Are you homesick or something?" "It's not easy to explain." Julia pushed back her plate and leaned her arms on the table, cupping her chin in her hands. "I realize now how easy life was for me in Paris, perhaps too easy - if you've never lived that sort of life you wouldn't understand. It was regimented and dull, but so circumscribed that it had no problems; I've scarcely ever had to think for myself. My difficulties started about two minutes after Sister Marie Therese put me on the train!" "You're still dodging Molly's question," Christine reminded her gently. For a moment Julia hesitated, looking from one to the other; on both Molly's and Christine's face she saw nothing but genuine concern, it

seemed more than she could bear and for a moment she felt her eyes prick with unshed tears. "Let's forget it - I'll be all right." She forced a smile. "Come on, we'll clear the dishes," she suggested, half rising from her chair. "You just stay put. I'm going to do the talking for a change," Molly asserted firmly, then, before any further protest could be made, she went on, "I've got a few ideas myself and I'm going to talk whether you like it or not," she began in- her forthright fashion. "Holy Saints! I feel some sort of responsibility for you. After all, David more or less put you in my care the first evening you arrived. Now let's have the truth. You aren't still worrying about that silly reference, are you?" It was impossible to avoid a direct question, and lifting her eyes to Molly, Julia replied, "I admit I don't like feeling I'm at St. Anne's under false pretences; if only I'd spoken at the time, told Matron the truth. But she frightened me so, I didn't dare. I've found out now that both Sister and Staff Nurse were told that I was recommended for the post by Dr. Mellor, so one day something is bound to come out." She turned appealingly first to Molly, then to Christine. "Could I tell the truth now, or do you think it's too late?" "Anything is better than making yourself ill about it." Christine spoke in her customary practical manner. "I must admit when Molly told me I was a bit concerned, but the damage was done and one only hoped the truth would never come out. I still don't see why it should, and in any case there's only one person who could help you, and that's David; if you told him, and he was prepared to back you up, then that's all that matters." "How could I tell him?" There was an ominous break in Julia's voice. "He doubted me from the very beginning - that first day we met, I - I know he couldn't quite place me - he believed I tried

deliberately to get into conversation; stupidly I said we'd met before - we had, you know," she interposed quickly as she saw the look of surprise on her companions' faces. "But he hadn't realized it - I had to borrow money from him - it was all so humiliating. He didn't believe that I was meeting my uncle. That, thank goodness, was the one and only thing which eventually came right." "You're too sensitive about it," Molly assured her. "The trouble is you've got a crush on David." "Perhaps that's why poor Bill can't get a look in!" Christine broke into the conversation, introducing a note of humour which she felt might relieve Julia's obvious despondency. "So you know about that?" Julia smiled wanly. "Bill Trent is very nice, but I've never been out with men. I just don't feel I want to, that's all." "You dined with David when he asked you!" Molly reminded her with a laugh. "He's a man all right - or was that different? Yes, he is nice, everyone admits that, but you've got to realize falling for him would be like butting your head against a brick wall. In the first place I don't think he'll ever care seriously for anyone again; secondly, you may as well know now as hear it from anyone else, both Christine and I believe he's got a petite amie in Paris; he's always dodging over there; gets frequent letters, too - lady's handwriting, isn't it, Christine? - and what's more those particular letters his secretary has been asked not to open," Molly ended meaningly. "I know! ... I know all that!" Julia's words were almost a cry, then taking a grip of herself she went on more calmly, "Nurse Meredith told me; she must have known about it, too, and believing that David got me into St. Anne's and knowing I came from Paris, she thinks I'm the girl in question."

"Holy saints! Now would you believe that?" Both Molly and Christine were obviously astounded at Julia's disclosure. It was Molly who first saw the humorous side of it. "Did you ever hear anything like it? Poor old Joan! Off on the wrong track this time!" "Just a moment - what was that?" Christine urged the other two girls to silence. "I thought I heard someone at the door, I wonder who it can be at this time of night?" She rose to her feet at the obvious sound of a bell and hurried towards the stairs. She paused in listening attitude. "Glory be - it's a man's voice - yes, why sure, I believe it's David himself!" Her guess was soon proved correct as David Mellor, closely followed by Christine, entered the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you you haven't finished your meal and you have a visitor, too." He apologized as he entered and the two girls both made to rise from the table. "No, please don't let me interrupt. I only want a word with Christine." "Do sit down," Christine begged, pulling forward the armchair. "We were just going to have our coffee. You'll have a cup with us, won't you?" "Thanks, I will." He settled himself comfortably in the armchair, then as Christine left to prepare the coffee he twisted round in his seat to address the others. "How are you, Julia? I don't get much chance to talk to you on the ward. Everything all right?" Before Julia had time to reply, Christine had returned and set the coffee tray on the table. "This should be good," she laughed. "Julia taught us how to make coffee, so any complaints must be addressed to her." She handed him a cup, then served the others. "Did you want me for anything special, Dr. Mellor?"

"Yes, I did." He set his coffee cup on a side table, then, lighting a cigarette, threw the match into the fire. "You are going away this week-end, aren't you? What time are you leaving to-morrow?" "Not until after lunch. Molly doesn't get off until then." "Then I wander if you'd mind going over to my rooms in the morning and dealing with any letters before you go? I've had an unexpected call. I want to catch an early plane to Paris to-morrow morning. I'll be back Sunday night or early Monday." "Yes, of course," Christine agreed readily. "I'll go over first thing." Julia had been listening to the conversation in a kind of stunned silence; she was scarcely interested and hardly knew what it was about Ever since David Mellows entry into that small room she had been aware of that sense of elation which his presence always afforded her, yet stray words of the conversation had penetrated her consciousness, causing her an indefinable feeling of hurt. Perhaps because he was going to Paris and to-morrow he would see the glorious spires of the Sacre Coeur silhouetted against the sky and the long stretch of the Champs-Elysees with its gay crowds and open cafes with their tables and striped awnings. . . . She felt a nostalgic longing for a glimpse of Paris; perhaps for the sight of Mother Clementine's kindly smile; or was it just jealousy; the bitter knowledge that someone drew this man to Paris, someone who had but to ask and he was at her side? 'That's what you ought to do, Julia." Molly addressed Julia over the rim of the cup she held to her lips. "This long week-end of yours you've just said how much you'd love to visit your old friends - why didn't you think of flying to Paris?" "Well -I -I only have two days. I did think of it, but I've never flown in my life - I think I'd be frightened." Julia spoke haltingly,

uncomfortably aware of the underlying suggestion of. Molly's words; it seemed to her that it must have been obvious to anyone that her remark had been pointed directly at David Mellor, and although she dared not so much as glance in his direction, she could sense that he had not remained unaware of the implication. "Why not travel with me to-morrow, if you'd care to?" David addressed Julia directly. "I can see about your flight, and you can meet me at Wimpole Street in the morning." Even as she still hesitated, Julia felt her foot being kicked by Molly who, making sure she was out of David's line of vision, was also shaping her lips into soundless words which left little doubt in Julia's mind that she was urging an acceptance. "It's very kind of you, but. . ." "Don't be silly, Julia, it's a heaven-sent opportunity of having a couple of days' real holiday. Heaven knows you look as though you need it." Molly could no longer refrain from speaking her mind. "Go on - say you'll go. You aren't short of money now; you don't want much luggage for two days and you can easily be ready in the morning, so you see there isn't a single excuse you can find." "I think Molly's right; you might as well come," David Mellor agreed. "I can escort you as far as Le Bourget and meet you there again for the return journey Sunday evening - or at the latest early Monday." He rose to his feet, throwing his half-finished cigarette into the fire. "I'll see you at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, then." After a brief farewell to Molly, he allowed Christine to escort him to the top of the stairway. "No, don't bother to come down. I'll find my own way out."

As if by mutual consent neither of the three girls spoke until the front door slammed behind their visitor, then it was Julia who broke the silence. "Oh, Molly - of course, it's wonderful, but how could you do it? Perhaps he doesn't want to be bothered with me at all. You absolutely forced me on him. He had no choice!" "Nonsense," Molly protested defensively. "It can't make any difference to him. You'll only be with him on the journey. You know you want to go." "Christine - what do you think?" Julia turned appealingly to the other girl. Excitement had brought a soft flush to her cheeks and her eyes were luminous in their shadowed depths. "I suppose Molly is right. If one wants a thing badly enough then it's worth putting up an effort. Besides, although he doesn't know it, he's thoroughly messed up my week-end, so I don't see why someone shouldn't benefit by it," she ended with a smile. "Messed up your week-end? But why?" Julia asked with perplexity. "Don't be so dumb, Julia. Surely you know?" Molly laughed at Julia's obvious mystification. "Dr. Hands won't be able to make up our foursome now - see what I mean? Now perhaps you understand my reasoning. 'Out of evil cometh good' - or something like that. From the Bible, isn't it? I don't know, but I've certainly heard it quoted and it's the first time I've really understood what it meant!"

CHAPTER V SEATED in the plane with David Mellor at her side, Julia had no sensation whatever of being thousands of feet above the ground; if she had any sensation of being airborne at all it was purely that of exhilaration and lightheadedness which had nothing whatever to do with her mode of travel, but was purely a reflection of inward happiness. "Not really so frightening, is it?" David questioned her. Julia returned his smile. "On the contrary. It's rather wonderful; not a bit as I thought it would be." It seemed to Julia that their journey had barely started when, after a perfect landing, they touched down on French soil. It amused her to find how much more readily she returned to the French tongue, far more easily than she had adapted herself to English, and it seemed quite natural that David should now leave all the necessary exchanges of conversation to her. As the airline bus journeyed towards the centre of Paris, she felt tensed with excitement and yet, strangely, there wasn't any real feeling of homecoming but more a happy sense of familiarity; even during her brief weeks away she knew that despite all her difficulties, England had spelled home. Paris, sparkling in morning sunshine, certainly had an air of gaiety which London somehow lacked, but now, in comparison, it seemed to much smaller and less dignified. Yet it still held for Julia a charm which, in her opinion, London, with all its architectural beauty, could never attain. "How do you feel now you are back?" David Mellor's words broke in on her reverie. She turned her face, alight with excitement, to his. "It's wonderful to see all this again. Now I can make comparisons, before - well, I had no comparisons to make," she explained simply.

At the terminal David helped her to alight "Now where do you go? What about your bag? I suppose you'll get a taxi?" "Good gracious no!" Julia laughed, and picked up her bag. "I go by Metro; the station is only a few steps from here. Mother Clementine would think the world had come to an end if I drew up in a taxi; she wouldn't forgive such extravagance." Julia had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. The flush of excitement still tinged her cheeks, and the shadows which for the, last few weeks had ringed her eyes only served to enhance their depth, while the sunlight gleamed on the soft curls which framed her face. "Now will you tell me exactly where and what time we meet for our return?" "To-morrow night, here at six. You've given me the name of the convent. If anything unforeseen occurs I'll phone you there, but, if possible, I think I should try to get back before Monday." Sitting on the had seat of the Metro Julia could still feel that momentary pressure of his fingers on hers. It seemed to carry a warmth and reassurance which, now she found herself alone, she felt she badly needed. The exhilaration of the journey had been but short-lived and now the true purport of her visit faced her with its stark reality. She had returned to Mother Clementine for help and advice; that meant revealing her own weakness. She had reached the limit of endurance and she was prepared to abide by the Reverend Mother's decision. Julia's thoughts raced with the clatter and vibration of the train, and with a gesture of weariness she pressed her gloved hand to her throbbing temples. How noisy the train was, how different from the London tubes! It was impossible to concentrate, she only knew that underlying the depression which had suddenly assailed her there also lay a sense of pain she felt unwilling to define; she could scarcely believe herself capable of jealousy, an emotion to which she had hitherto been a stranger, but she couldn't help resenting this girl who had brought David to Paris. She found herself wondering what she was like and how David

would spend the hours until they met again; he and this unknown girl would probably go to exciting places together - dance and have fun. . . . Julia had nothing to complain of in the welcome given to her not only by the Reverend Mother but by all the Sisters of the Convent. She knew now how much she had missed them all. Their simple, unaffected joy at her visit brought tears to her eyes and it was difficult to keep pace with their endless questions about St. Anne's. But in spite of the enthusiasm of all the Sisters it was to Mother Clementine that Julia felt her eyes drawn. It warmed her heart to see that well-loved face again. Her very presence in the room induced a sense of confidence. She was so obviously proud and delighted with Julia's progress, and, although she herself asked but few questions, she listened carefully to all Julia had to say. The smile which played round Mother Clementine's lips and the deep affection of those kindly grey eyes, told Julia, more than words, how deeply the Reverend Mother felt about anything which concerned her protegee. It was Mother Clementine's expression of serene contentment which haunted Julia as she lay on her narrow bed that night These few hours back at St Clare's had already claimed her frayed nerves, but she knew now that she could never bring herself to do or say anything which might take from Mother Clementine the joy of her visit. If sharing her problems meant denying the Reverend Mother one moment of the happiness which not only her presence but her apparent progress had afforded her, then she knew that silence could be her only course. She had brought this burden upon herself; she knew now that she must bear it alone. Sunday afternoon came round all too quickly. Julia, once she had made up her mind to keep silent about her own troubles, had enjoyed every moment of her stay; farewells were a mixture of laughter and tears, but with promises to return again before long

Julia found herself once mor on the Metro on the first stages of her return journey to England. David was already awaiting her as she reached the terminal. After greeting her, he took the suitcase from her hand and set it down on the ground beside his own. "We needn't leave for another two hours. How about some dinner first?" "If you think there's time...." Julia spoke with some diffidence; perhaps because the prospect held such great appeal she was fearful of appearing too anxious. "We'll make time," he assured her with a laugh. "Ill check in these bags. We don't want them with us; then we'll get a taxi - I don't know if there's any place round here? There's a restaurant just off the Champs-Elysees I've always wanted to try." Although Julia had spent most of her life in Paris she had never visited the type of restaurant in which she now found herself. It carried an atmosphere that she was sure could not have been found anywhere else in the world. Its popularity was assured by the close and crowded tables, but from a gallery table which they were lucky to find empty, they had a full view of the crowded floor. They had spoken little until the coffee was set before them, and then with a guilty expression Julia raised her shining eyes to David. "I'm afraid I've been a most boring companion. I've been so thrilled with everything - it's all so wonderful. I - I don't seem to have found time to talk," she explained apologetically. "It's far too noisy to talk, but I'm glad you've enjoyed it." He took out his cigarette-case and handed it across to her, then, with a smile, he took one himself. "Sorry, I forgot you don't smoke. Tell me, I'm most intrigued—" He paused to flick open his lighter, applied it to

the tip of his cigarette, then snapped it to again. "How can you have spent all your life in Paris without visiting places like this?" "I've explained. I was brought up in a convent. I'm afraid this sort of thing wasn't part of my education. In fact, even since I grew up, I was only allowed out if chaperoned by another girl, and even then we were always told where we should go." "Night life was not part of the curriculum?" His lips crinkled into a smile and his eyes laughed into hers. "I hope I'm right in filling in that part of your education which has been neglected—" He broke off and glanced at his wristwatch. "Time's getting on. I think we should be asking for the bill." It was apparently the custom of the habitual clientele to spend the whole evening occupying the tables, and it was several minutes before they could persuade a waiter to give them the bill. Even then it took Julia's expert French to convince him that they really wanted to go. After the warm, smoky atmosphere of the restaurant the night air was cool and refreshing, the brilliant lights of the wide boulevard made everything as bright as day, and despite the time of year there were many that lingered at the tables outside the cafes, only protected by their glass screens. Sunday seemed a popular night and crowds roamed the pavements, perhaps taking exercise, just seeing the sights, but all contributing to that life which was peculiar to the city. David cupped Julia's elbow in his hand as they threaded their way through the milling crowds to a line of waiting taxis. "You tell him where to go," he told her. "Taxi drivers never seem to understand me, so that will save us a few minutes." It was only as she sat at David's side in the taxi that Julia felt as if a veil of make-believe had been stripped from her eyes; only then did she realize that for the greater part of the evening she had been

living as if in a dream. Nothing had seemed real; it had been as if she were taking part in one of those fantasies of her imagination in which she had once been so wont to indulge; every moment had held that sensation of unreality. Only now, with the realization that in a few hours it would all be over, had the spell suddenly vanished and with its going she was aware of a feeling akin to fear causing an involuntary driver to run down her spine. "What's the matter. Are you cold?" David's voice held a note of concern, and leaning forward he drew the collar of her coat closer at the neck, tucking it gently into place as if she had been a child. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have kept you out so late, but it will be warm on the plane." "I'm not cold, really I'm not," Julia protested, glad that in the semidarkness of the taxi he would not be able to discern the tears which had sprung unbidden to her eyes. His solicitude, coming just at the moment of self-commiseration, seemed to have been the last straw; she was so deeply conscious that every moment was taking her nearer the end of this precious week-end, she felt she must cling desperately to these last remaining seconds. Slipping his arm through hers, David drew her closer to his side. "How's that, warmer?" he asked, peering down in an endeavour to see her face in the surrounding gloom. "I expect you're tired, too; you must try and doze on the plane." He helped her to alight from the taxi, then, paying the fare, left her while he went to the counter to collect their bags. The journey back had taken considerably longer than they had realized, and when he rejoined her there was an anxious expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Julia. The bus we were intending to take left ten minutes ago. We couldn't reach Le Bourget in time even by taxi. I don't know how to apologize. It was unforgivable of me to have allowed you to miss it.

Now we'll have a pretty long wait and the next plane gets us into London at a most unearthly hour." "It really doesn't matter a bit." Julia's obvious lack of concern did a little towards dispelling her companion's gloom. "It's very accommodating of you to pretend you don't mind, but I do fed terribly guilty; you realize, don't you, that this means we don't reach home until well after midnight?" he reminded her. "That's quite all right," Julia laughed happily. "Please don't worry. Of course I won't dare walk into St. Anne's at that hour, but I can always go to a hotel for the night. That will be fun. I've never stayed in a hotel in my life." Her expression was almost childishly pleading as she went on, "I suppose we couldn't spend the night here? It would be much more fun and make the week-end seem so much longer." Her companion looked at her for a moment as if doubting her words, then, matching his mood to hers, he laughed softly. "I don't think I'll ever get used to your aidless surprise. You make outrageous suggestions in the most innocent way. You leave me at a complete loss. You know, you really are a most intriguing person." "Does that mean you'll stay on?" Julia asked, anxiously seeking his expression for enlightenment. "I suppose I haven't got to get back. Apparently you're free, too. I haven't phoned yet, so I could tell them not to expect me until the morning." He spoke with a lingering note of doubt, then sensing Julia's anxiety, smiled down at her indulgently. "Come along, then. We'll find a hotel and park our bags, then I suppose we may as well make the most of the rest of the evening." "You mean it? Oh, how lovely!" Julia did not need any second bidding, but hurried along at his side in search of a taxi.

The quality of unreality which had held Julia in thrall during the earlier part of the evening had now completely left her; some inward force urged her to enjoy to the full this opportunity which had so miraculously come her way, although at times she felt she must pinch herself to make sure it was all true. Their accommodation arranged, they started out again for one of the popular floor shows for which Paris is famous; seated at a small table with the inevitable bottle of champagne before them, Julia watched, entranced, such a^ spectacle as she had never believed possible. The dance floor had been raised to accommodate the cabaret and she felt completely spellbound by the beauty and artistry of the entertainment. It was a show not only pleasing to the eye, but there was talent, too, fully deserving of the loud applause which greeted the end of each turn. Julia knew that a great part of her happiness was due to David's presence. He was a perfect host and a delightful escort, but those things were but trivial compared with the ever-growing delight with which his presence inspired her. The touch of his finger as it brushed her bare arm sent tingling warmth through her whole body, and, since her upbringing had taught her neither subterfuge nor evasion, she could not even delude herself. She knew, without doubt, that she loved this man as she had never loved anyone in her life. At one time she found herself wondering guiltily whether she had been wrong in asking him to stay, and, having prolonged his visit, would he have preferred to spend these hours elsewhere - but she firmly refused to let such a belief mar her happiness. "You're quiet, Julia. What's the matter? Are you tired?" Returning his quizzical glance, she shook her head firmly. "Not a bit. I'm just speechless with joy."

"Still, we mustn't be too late. You know we have to make an early start in the morning." Back in the hotel where they had reserved their rooms, David collected the keys from the night porter and as they were about to turn towards the waiting lift, he addressed Julia. "I was just wondering . . ." he began diffidently, then went on to explain. "You see, I wanted to send a few flowers to a friend before leaving Paris. I tried to get some on my way to our meeting place this evening, but I couldn't make the taxi-man understand that I wanted a flower shop. I was wandering if you could explain to this porter fellow what I want, then, if I left the address, perhaps someone would see to it for me in the morning. I hate troubling you," he added apologetically. "Of course, it isn't a trouble," Julia responded. "I'll ask him now. I'm sure they'll do it" She had already turned back to the desk and was explaining to the porter. In a moment he had produced a slip of paper and with pencil poised was ready to make a note of her requirements. "Mais bien stir on peut le faire ..." she began, then with an apologetic laugh went on, "Sorry. ... I was saying that of course they can do it. May the porter have the details as to what you want sent?" "What do you think? How about roses or something like that if they can get them - anything. I don't really mind so long as it's something nice." Julia turned back to the porter and engaged Mm in further conversation, then, translating the gist of what had been said to her companion, added, "... Let him have the address, will you - and do you want to enclose a card?" "The address - of course." David leaned over the desk which separated the porter's accommodation from the main foyer as he dictated: "Mademoiselle Simone Recamier - Rue Bourcy - ten - dix,

yes, that's right." He straightened up to search in his note-case for a card, then, scribbling a few words on the back, handed it to the porter. "Tell him to put what I owe on the bill," he told Julia. "I'll settle in the morning." Slipping some notes into the porter's hand, he walked by Julia's side towards the lift. 'Thanks, I don't know what I should have done without you. My French never seems any use when I try it out on the natives!" Emerging from the lift, he escorted her as far as her door. "Good night, my dear." Taking her two hands in his, he drew her round to face him. "It's been a wonderful evening." "You really mean that?" Julia lifted her face to him and her expression betrayed the joy his words had afforded her. "I feel pretty guilty about the whole thing really. I've been wondering if I ought to have allowed you to waste your time with me -1 didn't give you much option. I just thrust myself on you - I didn't really stop to think - you - you might have preferred to spend the time with your own friends." She spoke with obvious uncertainty. "I couldn't have spent the evening in better company," he assured her with a smile and a twinkle of the blue eyes which met her own. "I really mean that." Stooping, he lightly kissed her forehead. "Good night, my dear, and thanks." Dropping her hands, he turned away and strode across the corridor to his own room. Closing her door, Julia entered hear bedroom and without even waiting to remove her coat sank into a chair, pressing her hands to her chest as if she would still the tumultuous beating of her heart. She could still feel the brief touch of his lips; she would never forget that kiss all the years of her life. She did not know how long she sat, fearful of moving, as if action must surely break the spell of enchantment, but even then the enchantment could not last as a name sprang unbidden to her mind. Simone Recamier, the girl who by a word could bring him to her side.

With a determined effort Julia rose to her feet and with nerveless fingers began to remove her coat. What could it matter to her? she asked herself. She should be glad that, after all he had suffered, someone had brought him happiness. Laying her coat aside, she unfastened the buttons of her dress and allowed it to slip over her hips to the floor. Stooping, she picked it up and with mechanical movements folded it carefully over the back of a chair. She had had the most wonderful evening of her life; surely that was enough; had she any right to ask more?

CHAPTER VI WHILE Julia bent to her task of polishing table tops on the first afternoon of her return from Paris, her mind was still too full of the happenings of the last two days for her to be even aware of the monotony of her work. In fact, she was so busy reliving every moment of that wonderful week-end that she had never polished with more zest in her life! The long table down the centre of the ward shone as it had never shone before, and as she gave it a final rub she could see her own reflection as if in a dimmed mirror. It had pleased her enormously to see Pat's welcoming anile, but what had touched her more than anything was the fact that several of the patients had noticed her absence and greeted her return with obvious pleasure. She had always felt that she was far too insignificant a member of the staff to have been missed and it was gratifying to know that she must have made some kind of impression. "Glad to see you back, dear," a young woman in a crude coloured pink bedjacket greeted Julia as she passed along the ward. " 'Ad a nice week-end? You look better, I must say. 'Ave you bin to the sea? There's nothing like the sea for a pick-me-up, that's what I always says." She chatted on regardless of Julia's obvious anxiety to be going. "That Nurse Morgan's bin seeing to me since you was away. I don't like 'er, and that's the truth. I 'ope it's you what's goin' to do me dressing to-night. Real clumsy that Morgan girl is and no mistake." "I really don't know - but I'll see if I can." Julia hurried away before the conversation could be prolonged. She knew exactly what would happen if one of the Seniors found her wasting her time. Putting away her cleaning materials, she made her way to the kitchen. It was her turn to set out the tea trolleys. As she buttered the sliced bread and cut thick portions of slab cake, her thoughts were far away from the small tiled kitchen and the long ward with its regular rows of

beds. In her imagination she was back at St Clare's, surrounded by the grey-clad nuns, but most vivid in her memory was the sweet serenity of Mother Clementine's smile. She was glad she had said nothing to mar that happiness during her brief visit; that she had refrained from introducing any jarring note. Although there was no tangible result to show for her short sojourn in the cloistered atmosphere of St Clare's, those days had not been without effect. Julia could think far more clearly now and she knew, as certainly as if she had discussed her troubles with Mother Clementine, exactly what her advice would have been. No doubt she had known all along and the desire to share her difficulties had only been born of her unwillingness to face the truth. There was no vestige of doubt left in her mind; the circumstances leading up to her appointment must be disclosed and she had the firm intention of confessing everything to David at the first opportunity. She hadn't made up her mind to that course without any heartache. David's friendship remained the dearest thing she possessed. She knew, now, it could never amount to more than that since she had been faced with the truth of Simone Recamier's actual existence. "Nurse Dolland, leave those teas. Nurse Brown can finish them. I want you here." Julia obediently laid aside the bread she was spreading with margarine to join Nurse Meredith in the corridor outside the kitchen. "Yes, Nurse, you wanted me?" "Sister wants you to prepare a patient for a saline drip; the screened bed in the corner - you know, Miss Welsh. One of the housemen will be coming to see about it presently, I've just rung down for someone." Nurse Meredith was about to turn away, then, pausing, she again addressed Julia. "Did you enjoy your week-end off ? I understand that you told Sister James you weren't going away, but you went to Paris, didn't you? I imagine that's where Dr. Mellor

went, too. I can't help thinking it was a little indiscreet. Considering that Dr. Mellor sponsored your entry here, he should know better than to jeopardize your position by getting your name linked with his." It was just as well that the staff nurse turned on her heels before Julia had any need to frame a reply; the veiled hostility underlying the words and their implication had left her speechless, and as she hurried behind the screens to prepare the patient, she was grateful for the few moments of privacy which the screened enclosure afforded her. The patient's wan smile and her whispered thanks were some consolation as Julia did her best to offer words of reassurance and make her comfortable. She knew she was taking longer than necessary tidying up after the houseman had left, but she dreaded the moment when she must emerge from behind the screens. She felt sure that the shock of the staff nurse's words must still show in her face, if not in her whole bearing. "Don't go yet. Please stay a minute or two." The patient's whispered appeal drew Julia again to her side. How surprised Miss Welsh would have been to know there was nothing Julia would rather have done than remain exactly where she was, but lingering at any bedside was a thing which student nurses were not expected to do at St. Anne's. "I must go, but I'll send one of the other nurses along to you," Julia promised with a light touch on the patient's flaccid hands. "Now, don't worry, you're going to be quite all right." Not daring to delay any longer, Julia emerged, apparently only just in time, since Nurse Meredith was waiting determinedly towards the screened bed. "So there you are! You've been long enough clearing up." Her voice held that rarely absent note of grievance. "I've rung for a porter for

that patient in number ten; she's to go down to X-Ray; help him to lift her on to the trolley, then accompany her down. You'd better wait to bring her back, but tell Miss O'Rea to hurry; we can't have our nurses wasting their time hanging about down there." Julia was invariably glad of an opportunity to take a patient to XRay. If it only meant getting a glimpse of Molly, it always seemed to mate a pleasant break in the day. It was rarely that those jobs came her way. She felt sure that the staff nurse, knowing of her friendship with the radiographer, saw to it that, if anyone else were available, they went instead. This afternoon there were two student nurses away with minor ailments, so there had probably been no choice but to send her. With the porter's expert assistance the patient was placed on the trolley, and after tucking the blankets carefully round her, Julia followed the trolley along the corridor to the lift. It was a relief to turn her back on Bellamy Ward - and Nurse Meredith - at least there would be some respite before she need face her adversary again, and if she could get a chance of a whispered word with Molly it would help her flagging spirits. "Oh, yes, the case from Bellamy - oesophageal obstruction, isn't it?" One of the white-coated X-ray juniors greeted Julia as she entered the department. "Is it a standing case, or must she stay on the trolley?" Julia produced the notes, neatly clipped together. "I think she could stand." 'That's fine! Get her tops off and put on one of our gowns, will you? I'll tell Miss O'Rea you're here. I don't know who's doing it. Dr. Hands, or maybe Dr. Mellor will if he's back."

At that moment Molly emerged from the dark room holding a collection of wet films still in their frames. "Is that the Bellamy case? Oh yes, I see it is. Look after it for a moment, will you, Miss Hodges! I want a word with Nurse Dolland, but take these films along to Dr. Nicholson first," she added, thrusting the wet frames into her junior's hand before she turned to Julia. "Come into my room." As soon as they were alone, Molly carefully closed the door, then turned eagerly to Julia. "Tell me, quickly what sort of a week-end did you have? Did everything work out all right. I'm dying to know!" "It was wonderful," Julia told her eagerly. "But, listen, something awful has happened since! It was about half an hour ago. Nurse Meredith seems to have found out that I'd been to Paris. She guessed that Dr. Mellor was there, too. It wasn't exactly what she said, but she insinuated that since he'd sponsored my entry here, it was most injudicious of us to have travelled together." "How on earth did she find out? That's pretty awful, isn't it?" Molly looked worried. "It would be frightful if it got about - not just the fact that you both happened to go to Paris - after all, that's likely to happen, isn't it? But I hope to goodness it doesn't leak out that you went together." "But we didn't!" Julia protested. "We only travelled on the same plane. I went straight to St. Clare's and I suppose he went about his own affairs." Julia broke off abruptly as a tap on the door was followed by Miss Hodges' entry. "Miss O'Rea, everything is ready. I've phoned through and Dr. Mellor will be down in a minute."

"Just coming." Molly put a warning finger to her lips urging Julia to silence, then led the way to the screening room. Except for a dim red light the room was in complete darkness and it was a moment or two before Julia could adjust her eyes to her surroundings. Feeling her way carefully, she crossed to stand in readiness beside her patient to whom Miss Hodges was carefully explaining the procedure. "There's nothing to be frightened of, Mrs. Berk. The room has to be dark so that the doctor can see the reflection of the X-rays more easily on that screen - just like television, you know," she added brightly, then went on, "There's nothing whatever that will hurt you; you stay quite still unless the doctor asks you to move; you'll be given some white stuff to swallow; it's quite harmless and tasteless, too - shh ..." she ended as there was a sound of approaching footsteps and a small group of students entered the room in David Mellor's wake. Even in the semi-darkness Julia could easily distinguish his tall figure, as he briefly explained to the students the case they were about to screen; she knew that he must still be unaware of her presence. Somehow she felt glad. She was anxious to defer as long as possible their formal meeting at hospital after their friendly parting of but a few bouts ago. Already it seemed a decade since he had bidden her good night at the door or her hotel bedroom and she could scarcely believe they had only parted at the hospital gates on their way back from the airport that very morning. "Switch on, Miss O'Rea, will you?" The green fluorescent light which covered the square screen now focused Julia's full attention and she found herself completely engrossed with David Mellor's explanation of the shadows depicted thereon to the students who peered over his shoulder. The opaque barium which showed so clearly was fascinating to watch and had added interest now she had its meaning and action so clearly

explained. She was still absorbing her newly gained knowledge when the whirr of the apparatus stopped and the scrape of feet on the floor-told her that the students were stepping back as David Mellor rose from his chair. "Lights, please, Miss O'Rea." The sudden illumination was for the moment almost blinding, and it was a second or two before Julia could bring her eyes into focus. Now she could see David looking directly at her. Almost automatically and with her customary feeling of anticipation she awaited his encouraging smile or a nod of pleased recognition. It didn't come. Before she had realized what had happened he had turned on his heels and with a curt word of thanks to Molly had preceded the group of students from the room. Perhaps the sudden light had blinded Mm, too. No doubt he hadn't even recognized her. Julia, assisted by Miss Hodges, helped the patient back to the trolley, fixed the pillows at her head and covered her carefully with blankets. She beckoned to the porter who had been waiting outside, then followed the trolley back along the corridor. At the wide swing doors which led from the department Molly stood waiting and, beckoning Julia aside, lowered her voice. "listen, Julia, I've been thinking over what you told me; I must see you. You go off at six, don't you?" As Julia nodded, she went on, "I get off at five. I need not hurry back. I'll go up to your room and wait for you there." Julia certainly did not give of her best to her work for the rest of the afternoon, and on the stroke of six she was already hurrying from the ward towards the Nurses' Home.

Molly rose from the one armchair the room boasted as Julia entered, still breathless from her hurried journey across from die-main building. "Good, you're nice and punctual," Molly greeted her. "I'm really aching to have a proper talk with you; we've got to get this matter straightened out," she began without any preamble. Julia let her short scarlet-lined cape drop from her shoulders and settled herself on the side of the bed. "Molly, there is something I haven't had time to tell you yet - you realize I only got back this morning; I haven't had a chance - but you've got to know that my week-end away did me at least some good; it helped me to make up my mind. I've decided to tell David everything, I'm going to ham with the whole story of that letter at my very first opportunity." "I suppose it's as well." Molly withdrew a crumpled packet of cigarettes from her pocket, took one and lit it before continuing. "It may mean resignation, you realize that,-don't you?" she asked, directly addressing her friend. "Yes, I do." Julia spoke with a calm which belied the inward tumult of her mind. "I have enough money to scrape along with now anyway, I could take a temporary job in a nursing home or small hospital. Meantime I can put my name on the list for one of the training schools and wait my turn." "I see - yes, that seems sound enough." Molly puffed thoughtfully at her cigarette while she gave her mind to the problem. "It seems to me that if you've worked yourself up to tell David about the letter you may as well go the whole hog and tell him what Joan said this morning. He'd better know, then, if she does start any scandal he'll be more prepared to deal with it."

"I see." It was now Julia's turn to do some thinking, and as she twisted the fringe of the bedspread between her fingers she tried to digest the wisdom of Molly's advice. After some moments of contemplation she looked up at her friend. "David should be able to refute that nonsense easily enough - in fact I could rid Meredith of that silly idea of any interest he may have in me - but then you see, I don't know that I have the right to discuss David's affairs. I know I can trust you. There is a girl in Paris; Meredith was right; I even know her name now; you see, David sent her flowers before we left." Molly gave a long-drawn-out, "Oh ... h ... h", then lapsed again into silence, and when she next spoke she had obviously given much consideration to her words. "You know, that Joan Meredith is an odd girl; there's no doubt at all that she turned against David soon after her sister died. Anyway, she's shown an underlying animosity for David for ages now; despite her show of amiability on the wards I believe she'd welcome a chance to harm him." "Surely she can't harm him?" Julia burst out anxiously. "I mean, about this week-end - even if she talks, would it really matter?" "It certainly wouldn't do him much good," Molly admitted. "For a senior member of the staff to take one of the student nurses to Paris for a week-end wouldn't be exactly beneficial to his reputation," she ended dryly. "Oh, Molly, how awful!" Julia's expression was one of grave concern. "Then I must do something, and quickly, too. Tell me, what do you think would be best? I'll go to Joan Meredith and explain if that would help. I'll just make her realize that it was just a last-minute arrangement, that we only flew together .... She must realize I hadn't planned to gp with him."

Molly shook her head. "No, I wouldn't try to get round Joan; she's far too clever for the likes of you - I'm still wondering how she ever found out you'd been to Paris at all." Molly paused, then pointed dramatically at 'Julia's suitcase which stood beside her cupboard. "There you are!" she exclaimed with an obvious sense of satisfaction at her powers of detection. "That suitcase of yours! I've only been in your room twice before, but I've noticed you always keep it there, it's in sight of anyone passing even if the door was only ajar! An air label for Paris, as large as life; clean and fresh too; anyway, even I remember there was no tag label on it before." "It could have been that," Julia admitted somewhat reluctantly. "In fact I expect it was. I was a fool to leave it there, but how could I know? . . . Why, I never even gave the matter a thought." "You wouldn't," Molly agreed. "You've never had to be careful of wagging tongues. A few years in a large hospital will teach you all sorts of pitfalls you've probably never thought of before." She stopped for a moment, then went on, "I still think the best plan for you is to tell David everything. You've made up your mind to tell him about the letter; well, you may as well bang for a sheep as a lamb; tell him about Joan's threats, too." "All right, I will," Julia agreed. "I'd like to get it over, now I know it's got to be done. I feel I can't bear to wait I meant to see him as soon as possible after my return - I even tried to speak on our way back here from the airport this morning, but I just couldn't bring myself to spoil one moment of that holiday. It was so wonderful, Molly. Oh, Molly, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it — I actually stayed in a hotel; the very first time in my life." "You mean you and David spent a night together? ... You weren't at the convent on Sunday night?" Molly asked in almost awed surprise.

"No, I met David on Sunday evening. We intended to return then. ... I can't tell you how glad I am we missed the plane, it was all the most wonderful thrill." "Well, by all the Saints . . . !" It wasn't often that Molly found herself speechless, but for a moment she was completely bereft of words. She stared at Julia as if unable to believe her, then, giving up any further attempt at speech, she burst into uncontrollable laughter. "What are you laughing at? What's funny about it?" Julia asked with unaffected surprise. "If you can't see . . . then I can't tell you," Molly spluttered through her laughter. "You're really an extraordinary girl. . . . You calmly confess to the most outrageous behaviour and then ask me why I'm completely overcome." "I still don't see . . ." Julia began tentatively, but before she could continue Molly had interrupted her. ". . . And I don't think you ever would, so I don't intend to try and explain. You'd better get along to David and make your peace. After what you've told me about last night it shouldn't be too difficult. It seems to me you must be able to twist him round your little finger. He seems to have acted quite out of character, and I certainly can't think how he could have had such complete disregard for his - and your - reputation." "I still don't see . . ." Julia began again, but Molly, rising from her chair, cut her short. "Never mind, don't try to," she told her with an indulgent smile. "You just pop on a coat. If you intend to see David you'd better get it over, and since we're both going the same way, we may as well go together."

Julia didn't trouble to change into mufti, but, slipping on her navy uniform coat, walked beside Molly towards the bus stop. Now the moment when she must face David Mellor was approaching she felt some of her former confidence slipping, but with a determined effort she rallied her defences. What would happen after this interview? Would it break that precious link of friendship? If it did, then Julia knew it would be as if the future were forever deprived of light.

Molly had turned the corner of the mews and was out of sight before Julia found the courage to press the bell of David's front door. In her present state of nerves the resultant sound was almost terrifying and she was sure it must have echoed the length of the street. It was some consolation when the bell was answered to find Christine's friendly figure standing in the doorway, but even her customary poise seemed shaken when she recognized the caller and her eyebrows went up in an arch of surprise. "Good gracious, I didn't expect to see you!" she exclaimed with astonishment. "All the same I'm glad it's not a patient as I was just about to down tools for the day. Whatever has brought you here at this time of the evening?" "I want to see Dr. Mellor." "He is in, isn't he? I suppose I can see him?" "He's finished his consultations, if that's what you mean. He's gone up to his sitting-room. I'm sure he'll see you. Shall I go and tell him or would you rather go straight up yourself?" "You needn't bother; I came here once before, you know; I remember the way."

"Go along up then! I must hurry or Molly will wonder what's happened to me." "I thought I heard the bell - I've no further appointments, have I?" David Mellor's tall figure appeared round the bend of the stairway. Seeing Christine in conversation with someone he paused, then, recognising Julia, went on, "Oh, I see, it's not for me." With a murmured good night' he turned to remount the stairs. His intention spurred Julia to action and with a hurried farewell to Christine she quickly followed him. "Dr. Mellor - I called to see you - can you spare a few moments?" she asked breathlessly. "Must you see me now?" Neither the words nor the tone were encouraging and there was an unusual edge to his voice. "Yes - oh, please, if you could just spare me a few moments," she repeated anxiously. "I suppose if you feel it can't wait . . he began brusquely as he showed her into the room the door, then joined her where she stood hesitant in the centre of the floor, gripping her handbag between nerveless fingers. "You'd better sit down. No point in standing. Come ova- to the fire." He pushed forward a chair, then seated himself in an armchair on the other side of the fire. "Well, what's it all about? What have you to say that couldn't wait?" His opening did nothing towards calming the frightening beat of Julia's heart. It wasn't only his words. His whole bearing filled her with dread. She had almost forgotten that hard, unyielding line of his lips. He had only shown her that expression at their first meeting. It - had been born of his disbelief and mistrust. Did he feel that way now? She recalled the afternoon's incident when he had turned from her without apparent recognition; had it then been no

trick of the light but a definite intention? Moistening her lips, Julia sought for words and when she spoke her voice sounded strained and unnatural. "I've had something on my mind, I feel I must tell you ..." she began, then lifted her eyes appealingly. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper as she continued. "I want you to know that I didn't get into St. Anne's as easily as you believed. It was by the merest chance—" She broke off again, still vainly seeking some sign of understanding, but there was no softening of that hard, unyielding line of his mouth. Swallowing hard, Julia stumbled on. "The letter you gave .me for Molly somehow got into ..." "I know! You needn't bother with amy long-winded explanations." His voice, hard and inflexible, cut across her words. "I've had enough of your elaborate excuses." He rose abruptly and gave an angry jab with his foot at the glowing coals, then, lighting a cigarette, threw the match into the fire. "There doesn't seem to be anything else to say, does there?" "But there is more to say!" she burst out agitatedly. "You must understand that it was all a ghastly mistake I know I should have admitted it at the time - or come to you immediately - I was just frightened; I couldn't." He seemed taller than ever as he stood staring down at her, but trying hard not to be intimidated, Julia queried, "How did you know about the letter? Who told you?" "If it's of any interest to you, I happened to find out this morning after our return. Matron spoke to me as 1 was crossing the hall, told me how well you were getting on and how you were justifying my recommendation." There was a note of bitter sarcasm in his voice. "I was naturally intrigued to know what part I had so unwittingly played in your affairs, so I asked Matron's secretary if I might see your original application and credentials. I was, naturally, somewhat surprised to find my own letter."

"I suppose Matron was horrified? I suppose she'll dismiss me at once?" "I didn't enlighten her. As far as I'm concerned you can stay at St. Anne's as long as you like." He spoke with an air of complete indifference. "You seem to be a satisfactory nurse; that's the important factor, and in any case it would seem a pity to leave after showing such ingenuity in getting admitted." "I don't understand - you mean you won't tell Matron; that you agree to my remaining on?" Julia could scarcely believe her ears. "Why not? I'm not in the slightest bit interested." He paused and threw his half-finished cigarette away. "Now don't you think that completes this interview?" "No - no - I can't leave things like this," Julia protested with a note of rising hysteria. "It's impossible. You must see that. You've got to believe it was all a mistake. You've got to listen to me!" She leaned forward appealingly and her hands were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles were white beneath their pressure. "Listen to me, Julia." David now spoke less harshly, but there was no softening of his expression as he reseated himself and leaned towards her. "I've told you that I'd rather dispense with explanations; I've also said that I've no objection to your remaining on; I've promised not to give you away. Aren't you satisfied?" Satisfied? As Julia mutely echoed the word her lips curved into a mirthless smile. Yes, she could remain at St. Anne's with an easy conscience; enjoy all the amenities of the hospital, achieve the training she had wanted. There was nothing more to worry about, the future was hers to stretch out and grasp, and yet, with David Mellor's steely blue eyes staring coldly into hers, she knew that what

had once been her ambition was now as dust and ashes; the future had become meaningless; nothing seemed to matter any more. "Well, tell me, what more do you want?" David's question aroused Julia from the apathy in which she had sunk. "I want nothing." Her clasped hands fell apart and lay listless on her lap, and when she lifted her eyes, again they were misted with unshed tears. "There is something else I'd better tell you before I go." Her voice now was strangely calm. "The staff nurse of Bellamy - that's Joan Meredith, you know - said something to me this morning which I think I should tell you. She'd heard that you were supposed to have recommended me to Matron. She's resented me from the beginning." Julia carefully chose her next words. "Of course, she knew you'd been away and guessed you'd paid your customary visit to Paris. She found out that I'd spent my long leave there, too; she thinks we went together; she obviously doesn't like either of us very much and I'm afraid she may make the most of what she has discovered." "You mean she thinks I deliberately took a holiday with you?" It was plain that Julia's information had completely diverted David Mellor's thoughts from their previous discussion. "You're quite certain of what you're saying ... you aren't just imagining the whole thing?" "No. You see, Nurse Meredith thinks that I was the reason for your frequent visits to Paris. Apparently she has always believed there was a girl concerned; She resented your secrecy about it all." "Didn't you tell her I only met you a few weeks ago; that we scarcely know one another?" he asked with irritation. "How could I? You would scarcely have sponsored my entry to St. Anne's on such a brief acquaintance," Julia pointed out unhappily.

"Now I begin to understand.... Joan naturally thinks we are old friends." As Julia nodded assent, he went on, "She mustn't spread such a tale; you realize that?" He rose from his chair and paced the room with some agitation. "If it really gets around that we went away together it will cause an appalling scandal. It's got to be stopped, and immediately!" Moving across to the telephone, he dialled a number. "St. Anne's? ... I want to get in touch with Nurse Joan Meredith. . . . It's David Mellor speaking...Is that you, Joan? Yes, it's David. I want to see you . . . yes, now, at once. Jump into a taxi and come over." He listened to the reply, then abruptly replaced the receiver and turned to Julia who sat as if rooted to her chair. "Nurse Meredith will be with us in ten minutes or so. We'll hear what she has to say." He paced around the room apparently in deep thought. Stopping beside the radiogram he turned a switch and the beautiful harmony of a Beethoven symphony filled the room, sounding strange and unexpected in the disharmony of the prevailing silence, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, it seemed to bring a sense of peace to the exclusion of all eke. Julia, familiar with the vibrant chords, felt as if she had never heard them before. They seemed to carry a new meaning and she knew she would remember that particular movement as long as she lived. "That must be Joan." At the sound of the bell he jumped to his feet. "Mrs. Benson is out. I'll go and open the door." Julia could discern their voices as they mounted the stairs and when they both entered the room she rose quickly and after a brief nod of recognition she turned to David. "Perhaps you'd rather I went. ..." "No, stay where you are!" Julia felt powerless to protest, and sinking back in her chair she watched him in silence as he drew up another chair for Joan Meredith, then crossing the room switched off the record.

Then without preamble he began speaking, his eyes fixed on Joan as with an expression of deep curiosity she relaxed against the cushioned back of the armchair. "Apparently you said something to Nurse Dolland this morning which worried her considerably. She tells me you're harbouring a totally wrong idea about our relationship.' The words were more a challenge than a question, but by Joan Meredith's prompt reply it appealed that she had not been unaware of the purport of her summons. "I made no accusation at all. It was merely a warning. I felt that Nurse Dolland might not realize how quickly the slightest breath of scandal can get round a place like St. Anne's - you, of course, know that, but then men never think of that kind of thing until it's too late." "That is exactly why I asked you to come over here," David cut in. "Before it is too late, I want you to understand that what you believe, or imagine, is of no interest to me, but I insist that you keep your beliefs to yourself." When Joan next spoke Julia couldn't help noticing that her assumed air of detachment was gradually deserting her, her expression had become tense and her eyes flashed angrily. "You have no right to ask anything of me. Whatever happens you only have yourself to, blame. . . . The effrontery you've shown in bringing that girl here!" She almost hissed the words as she cast a furious glance in Julia's direction. There was a rasping note of anger in David's voice as he made reply, but outwardly he appeared entirely unmoved. "Perhaps you'll explain yourself." "That's not difficult! You think I've been blind these last years, but I haven't. I knew there was some girl in the picture soon after Antonia died; it wasn't even difficult to guess who it was. Antonia wrote to

me for the last time a day or so before she died. She was already in the nursing home, but she assured me everything would be all right and not to worry; she also said how well she was being looked after by a pretty young nurse, auburn- haired she described her, and added how lucky it was the nurse spoke perfect English; she tried to make her letter merry and even joked about it, saying the nurse was such an attractive little thing that she hoped yoa wouldn't fall for her! It was just light-hearted nonsense, of course - at least Antonia thought so, but since then I have learned otherwise!" Her eyes turned accusingly towards David. "What Antonia made fun of really happened; you were back in Paris a bare week after she died and you've been going back and back again at every possible opportunity ever since!" She paused to moisten her lips before continuing. "I have never said anything about this before - why should I? It wasn't my affair, but now you've brought this girl over here, installed her at St. Anne's; now I refuse to hold my tongue any longer; it's a scandalous thing to have done, and you know it!" "I see - now I understand." There was no anger in David's voice, only a note of weariness; he did not even seem in a hurry to make any reply, but, after turning to stare into the glowing embers of the fire, crossed back with slow steps to his chair, then seated himself, half turning towards Joan before he continued. "You've been very perceptive - you've only made one mistake. There has, up to now, been nothing but friendship between Julia and myself. A few weeks ago she decided she wanted to nurse in England. I had no personal motive whatever in bringing her here." He paused significantly, then with marked deliberation, continued, "I admit we travelled back to Paris together on Saturday. She wished to revisit her guardian - and to inform her of our coming marriage." "You can't mean that!" Joan Meredith appeared dumbfounded as she paused to stare from David to Julia incredulously. It was with an obvious effort that she was able to continue. "You two are going to be married?"

"You must have guessed that I might remarry, some time?" There was no edge to his question, on the contrary it held an underlying note of gentleness. "You're a fool, David. Surely you realize that no one could ever take Antonia's place. You would never be happy with anyone else." There was a note of hysteria in Joan's protest. "I know exactly how you feel, Joan." The semblance of a satirical smile twisted David's lips. "And I've never sought to find another girl of your sister's quality." "Julia should know what I mean." Joan had now turned to the younger girl with some show of animation. "You knew my sister; you nursed her; you see, I guessed that all along, and the evening when you came into my room, I knew that you recognized my sister's portrait the moment you looked at it." Julia opened her lips to deny such an unwarranted statement, but she sensed rather than saw David's warning glance, and before she could frame any words he had forestalled her. "I dare say she did . . . but this is just wasting time, since you know now that Julia and I propose to be married shortly. I presume we can rely, not only upon your silence and discretion, but also upon your blessing." "Of course I'm glad." The conventional words seemed to be wrung from her. "I still don't understand why there's been all this secrecy; why you've never told me anything about Julia before; I don't see why you've waited so long, either?" "That shouldn't be difficult to understand," he broke in. "You've said yourself that a girl like your sister isn't readily replaced. Remarriage is obviously a step to be carefully considered. And Julia has been nothing but a good friend; up to a few days ago, I had never thought of her as anything else. If she nursed your sister, then she must have

done much to help her during those critical days. Isn't it natural I should have felt grateful? Can't you imagine how that might be the beginning of a deep and lasting friendship?" His words were obviously making a considerable impression on his listener and he was swift to follow up his advantage. "May I take it that - now you understand everything - you'll banish that long-standing resentment for me from your mind? Your resentment of Julia, too. She has. no one older than herself to turn to here. With your experience you could help her so much." "Of course I could," Joan responded with obvious gratification as she slowly turned towards Julia as if perceiving her for the first, time. "You seem so childish in some ways. I'll help you all I can; you've only to ask me; I'll be only too glad." She smiled, then straightened up and looked enquiringly first at David, then back to Julia. "By the way, will you be staying on at St. Anne's? Or are you marrying shortly?" Again it was David who supplied the answer. "Julia wants to remain at the hospital for a while. She's enjoying the experience, and in any case she has no other home in this country." He laid his hand on Joan's arm as he led her towards the door. "You realize that we haven't told a soul. You're the only person who shares our secret. Since Julia has to remain at St. Anne's for a time, we feel it's better to keep things to ourselves, so you won't pass on the news, will you?" As if in a dream, Julia was aware of Joan Meredith's ready promise as she disappeared from the room by David's side. She could still hear her voice as they descended the stairs, eager and animated, so different from the hard tones to which she was accustomed. Her whole bearing had been different, spontaneous and friendly. It didn't seem possible, hardly real - but was anything that had happened during that evening real? It couldn't be, it was all utterly beyond her understanding, like a fantastic nightmare. As the room swung

menacingly around her, Julia tightened her grip on the chair, then sank into its cushioned depths and no longer able to control her emotions, she buried her face in her hands and let her tears fall unchecked.

Julia sensed rather than saw David's return to the room. Hastily averting her head, she wiped away the recent traces of tears, then, taking a grip on herself, turned in her chair to face him. He was standing against the door through which he had just entered. She was uncertain how long he had been there; how long he had been staring at her. But as she lifted her face towards him he leaned back until the latch clicked into place; then, the door firmly dosed, he advanced slowly into the room. He seemed so tall now he was standing just beside her chair that Julia had to tilt her head back to see his face, and his hard, withdrawn expression shocked her into speech. "What is this all about? Those things you said to Joan Meredith - I don't understand any of it - it was lies, all lies!" she cried, not attempting to restrain the note of accusation which had crept into her voice. "There were no lies spoken, Julia." David's voice was flat and toneless in strong contrast to Julia's emotional speech. "I didn't deny Joan's story; it was simpler that way; I spoke no untruth; I merely accepted hers." He reseated himself opposite Julia and with a gesture of weariness sat forward with his hands loosely clasped between his knees. Julia found herself watching him covertly while she considered his explanation. He appeared to be entirely engrossed in his own thoughts and only seemed to recall her presence when she spoke

again. "Yes, I see that now, but why let Joan believe such a ridiculous story?" she demanded agitatedly. "Because I hadn't the slightest doubt in my mind that it was the best thing to do." He focused his gaze on Julia as he went on speaking, and although his voice still sounded flat and entirely free from all emotion, there was a note of determination in his voice. "I suppose you're entitled to some explanation and I propose to make it as brief as possible. You've used me, Julia; from the first moment of our meeting you've used me entirely to your own ends." Julia's stricken expression did nothing to deter him; he went on without concern for her reaction. "Now I'm using you - to my ends." He waited for the words to sink in. "Joan has harboured resentment against me since Antonia died; you know why, now; she told us both pretty plainly. Her affection and pride in her sister may be something it is difficult for you to understand. Her whole life centred round Antonia. Joan devoted her life to her - losing her sister was a blow from which she has never recovered. It was, I suppose, only natural that any action of mine which might appear an insult to her sister's memory would assume enormous proportions. You could see how she's tortured herself with her fantastic beliefs. It was unbearable to her that I might have consoled myself so readily; the idea that anyone could take Antonia's place so soon was quite beyond her understanding." "To-night, unexpectedly, I saw the way to put things right - I mean for Joan - for once and all I've rid her mind of the bitter belief that I was indulging in some sordid affair - the fact that I've introduced you as my future wife has convinced her that any previous relationship I had with you in Paris was perfectly proper and above suspicion; at least she knows me well enough to realize that I would at least show discretion in my choice of a wife," he ended on a note of ill-concealed bitterness.

Julia had remained silent during his long discourse. Now, as she tried to understand his reasoning, everything became clearer. How adroitly David had turned everything to his advantage. He had entirely cleared himself of any suspicion of a sordid intrigue; had managed to quell Joan's suspicions and even made her an ally to his plans. Resentment seemed to choke her, and although she framed words she found herself unable to speak; she had no doubt whatever in her mind as to his intention. With her as a blind, with this ridiculous promise of marriage, he could comfortably continue to pursue his own interests. Simone Recamier would still be able to summon him to her side whenever she chose - Simone Recamier, the red-headed nurse - how right Joan had been, yet how easily she had been diverted from the truth. Julia felt cold and sick at the thought, yet completely unable to utter as much as a protest. "What are you thinking?" David rapped out the question as his eyes sought hers. Julia had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could speak and even now her voice sounded strained and unnatural. "I see now what you meant when you spoke of 'using' me. I'm a sort of red herring to divert Joan from the truth." "Yes, I suppose that's true - in a way," he conceded, then he leaned more confidentially towards her, and his voice had lost its edge. "I want you to understand that I had to do this. Please try to see that I had no alternative. I wanted, in the first place, to bring Joan some peace of mind. Secondly, as you know, she had to be stopped from spreading that story about us. That was important; much more important to both of us than you realize." Julia drew her hand wearily across her forehead and ran her fingers through the waves of her hair. The large room suddenly appeared to

be over-heated and oppressive. Looking up, she found David appraising her with an expression of concern. "You'd better let me get you a drink; sherry or perhaps brandy; you look a bit shattered." He rose to his feet as he spoke and crossed to a tall walnut cabinet. "What will you have? I think I could do with a drink myself." "Nothing. No, really not, thank you," Julia protested as he made to interrupt her refusal. She felt she needed some kind of stimulant but somehow she felt reluctant to have alcohol. "Would it be an awful bother if I had either coffee or tea? " "Why, of course not. It's Mrs. Benson's evening out, but I'll go and get it for you. I don't suppose you've had supper, either. .Would you like something to eat? Mrs. Benson always leaves a tray for me. I'll see what there is." "No, please." Julia rose quickly from her chair. "Show me the kitchen; let me get it." She forced a smile. "I expect I'll be much quicker than you. Besides, if you haven't had your dinner. 111 bring that in at the same time." "Oh, don't bother about any food for me. That is, of course, unless you'd like something - goodness knows what you'll find. I dare say there's something cold. The kitchen is just at the end of the landing." It was such a relief to Julia to find herself doing such a mundane thing as to light the stove and prepare coffee that it did more than she would have believed possible to restore some of her confidence and poise. While the kettle boiled for the coffee, she was breaking eggs into a bowl, chopping some fragments of ham and placing a knob of butter to heat on the stove. The prosaic job steadied her and by the time she returned to the living- room with her loaded tray, she felt as refreshed as if she had already eaten.

"That certainly looks good!" David told her as she placed the omelette, still sizzling on its plate, before him and poured the steaming, aromatic coffee into a cup. "But I'm not eating unless you join me," he insisted. "I'm having some coffee and toast. That's what Fd prefer, if you don't mind." Julia had spoken so firmly that there seemed little use for argument, but it afforded her infinite pleasure to see how much her slight effort had been appreciated. There was no doubt that her companion was enjoying her hastily concocted meal, and she herself was already feeling considerably revived by the much needed refreshment. She remained silent until he had finished eating, then filling up his cup, she prepared to speak the words which had been trembling on her lips. "There's something I must know. Now you have told Joan we're engaged, would you mind telling me how you propose to break the news to her that there was no foundation whatsoever for such a statement?" Taking a cigarette from his case, he lit it before replying. "Could you bear to let her go on believing - just for a few weeks?" A persuasive note crept into his voice, and his eyes seemed to beg her co-operation. "It won't be difficult. No one but Joan will know. Surely we can both pretend for a short time? Don't forget, there'll be no question of pretence except in her presence; otherwise, the deception will make no demands on you at all. Later - well, anything could happen. We'll just tell her we've changed our minds. There is no reason why she shouldn't believe that; in fact I'm sure she'll accept it quite readily." "I see." Julia carefully considered his words before continuing. "I will do as you ask. I suppose, at least, I owe you that."

"You owe me nothing!" His note of anger surprised her. "Don't take too much heed of anything I may have said this evening; ridiculous nonsense about getting my own back. I was exasperated; I didn't know what I was saying. If you'll do this dung for me, you'll have done more than you can ever possibly know. I had an unpleasant shock this morning when I found out what you'd done; another when you told me what Joan had threatened. I spoke hastily—" He paused uncertainly, then continued slowly, choosing his words with care and giving them a significance which made them even more startling to his listener. "I was deeply shocked when I discovered your duplicity, but, perhaps, even more than that I was grievously disappointed. It meant more to me than I can ever expect you to understand. Now I've shocked you, do you think it might be a good plan if we gave one another the benefit of the doubt, and agreed to accept each other's failings without question?" Since Julia had made no effort to respond, he spoke again. "I suppose I am asking a lot, but I've kept my own counsel for so long it's not easy, now, to share a secret I have been at such pains to hide. I've told you before that I find you difficult to understand. I've never really been able to place you. Perhaps that's partly due to a lingering distrust of all women - fostered by Antonia." If he had tried to surprise Julia into speech he was not disappointed. "I'm afraid I don't understand that, at all." She stared at him in perplexity, her finely marked brows arched in astonishment. "I'm trusting you sufficiently to confide to you some- tiling I never meant anyone to know -1 need hardly add, least of all, Joan. It would take from her one of the most cherished possessions she has her memory of her aster - that's why you must never tell her. Antonia never lived up to the perfection with which Joan, in her blind love, had endowed her; her genius and beauty were undeniable, but they hid the true woman underneath; she possessed

a hard, scheming nature which trampled ruthlessly on everything most sacred in order to attain her ambition." It was obvious to Julia, who was listening with startled attention to his words, that David was not finding it easy to bring to light this knowledge which must have been so long hidden in his heart. There was a note of poignancy in each word he uttered. "Joan believed in her sister; so did I - but I suffered a disillusionment such as I never wish her to Share." He stopped abruptly and threw the stub end of his cigarette with deliberation into the glowing embers. "That may help you to understand; anyway, a little." "It does, and I'm sorry - oh, so sorry." Julia spoke spontaneously and her expression betrayed more dearly than her words how deeply she had been moved by his confidence. It explained so much; more than he even dreamed, for his revelation had justified his relationship with Simone, and raised it from the sordid level to which Joan's story had consigned it. How could he know how much that meant to her! She felt she could face anything so long as David Mellor could only remain that man of whom she had so long dreamed.

CHAPTER VII JULIA hastily fastened her white belt, then fixed her cap firmly to her head. In hospital there never seemed to be much time to spend on one's appearance, but fortunately Julia's hair needed very little coaxing and her complexion required the minimum of attention. Although there seemed to be ample off-duty hours, most of the nurses lived in a perpetual state of hurry; Julia found she was no exception to the rule, and glancing at her bedside clock she was surprised to find that she was due back on the ward within the next ten minutes. Sitting over her tea in the nurses' dining-room, Julia glanced around her. She felt quite a veteran member of the staff these days, and, if not on speaking terms, was certainly on nodding acquaintance with a number of her fellow nurses. After returning a few smiles of greeting, Julia became wrapped in her own thoughts; it was already nearly three weeks since that momentous evening at David Mellor's flat, and although at that time she had felt as if the bizarre and complicated pattern of life was spinning a web of trouble around her and her whole soul had cried out for the cloistered peace of St. Clare's, all that had swiftly passed and these last three weeks had been the happiest she had known since her arrival in England. Her supposed engagement to David Mellor, once she had accustomed herself to the idea, gave her little concern. As David had promised her, the deception caused her no embarrassment. Joan had kept her word and it still remained a close secret between the three of them. The fact that David shared this deception fully satisfied any qualms Julia might have suffered. Her confidence in him was unshakable and if he felt it was the wisest tiling to do, then Julia was content. He seemed to have been right, since, during the past three weeks, Joan Meredith had undergone a startling change; that hard, bitter line no longer compressed her lips, and even during work hours she permitted herself an occasional smile.

With another hasty glance at the clock, Julia rose from the table and made her way to Bellamy Ward.

With one of those vagaries so typical of spring weather the sunny afternoon had turned to a wet, showery evening and as Julia and Bill Trent made their way up Shaftesbury Avenue that evening the lights of Piccadilly Circus were reflected in the rain-washed roads and tiny rivulets of water ran down the gutters. Drawing Julia aside to avoid a splash of mud thrown up by a passing car, Bill addressed her. "Hadn't you better shelter in this doorway while I scout round again for a taxi?" "There isn't a hope. They all seem to be engaged. I suppose this is the time all the theatres turn out." Julia tilted her umbrella to avoid a drizzle of water dropping from some overhead projection. "The rain doesn't worry me. I think it's better to walk than to stand about in the forlorn hope of getting a taxi." "I don't like the idea. You might get a cold or something." Bill spoke solicitously. "Are you quite sure you don't mind? As a matter of fact, I remember a restaurant quite near here, in Dean Street. It can't be more than a few yards. We could make for that if you like." "Then let's!" Julia agreed with alacrity, and allowing her companion to tuck his arm beneath hers, she hurried along at his side, packing her way carefully to avoid the puddles. Julia was too glad to gain the shelter of the restaurant to pay much heed to its appearance. It was only after crossing the small foyer and entering the dining-room that a sense of familiarity struck her and she realized with a stab of pain that it was the same place where she had dined with David on their first outing together.

As on her first visit, the restaurant was only sparsely filled, but, with a reluctance she could not define, Julia deliberately turned her back on that corner table and, ignoring the maitre d'hotel's lead, made her way firmly to a place set for two at one side of the mirrored room. "Are you all right? Comfortable here? Or would you rather have had a comer table?" Bill asked. "No. This is lovely, thanks." Julia put down her handbag and began to pull off her gloves, while Bill, satisfied as to her comfort, seated himself beside her. While they waited for the waiter to bring their order, Bill chattered on inconsequently. He was an excellent companion and Julia never felt bored in his company. In fact, as she appraised his clean-cut features, his fair skin and hair and laughing blue eyes, she realized, not for the first time. Bill's many attractions. After her long sojourn in a Latin country, his Nordic type made a special appeal. There was something typically British about Bill; he seemed to possess even more than his rightful share of charm, and it appeared strange to Julia that, despite everything, she could feel nothing more than a pleasurable distraction in his company; yet David Mellor had but to give her a passing smile to make her heart flutter in her breast. As the waiter set the dishes before them, Bill began discussing the theatre they had just visited. "I didn't think much of the play, did you?" "I loved it." Julia smiled up at her companion. "I suppose it was too thought-provoking for you, but I found it tremendously interesting." "I thought the critics had boosted it too much. It was so highbrow it went right over my head." He paused in the act of crumbling his roll. "Good heaven's! Look who's just-come in! If it isn't the mighty Mellor himself!"

Julia nearly choked over the food she had in her mouth and in an instinctive effort to conceal her features from her companion, she lifted her serviette to her lips. The shock of David's unexpected appearance had brought that now familiar quickening of her pulse, and she only prayed that the sudden emotion she was experiencing was not apparent. It was clear that Bill was unaware of anything unusual about his companion. He had not even noticed her silence as he went on speaking. "He's making for that corner table - I doubt if he's seen us yet - think I ought to do anything about it? Will he expect to be asked to join us?" "Oh, no, no!" Immediately conscious that she had put far too much vehemence into her protest, Julia struggled to regain her composure, and when she continued she almost over-exaggerated her indifference. "I shouldn't think that's necessary, but, of course, you must do what you think right." "I'd better make the offer." Bill's voice showed his indecision. "After all, he is my boss; can't afford to do the wrong thing; we can only hope he's too tactful to accept!" He smiled at Julia as he rose from their table and crossed the thickly carpeted floor towards the corner where David had now settled himself. Julia found herself covertly watching the two men as they conversed. David had risen from his seat and when Bill had apparently explained his errand, she saw David's expression of surprise as he turned towards her, no doubt to confirm what he had been told. He acknowledged her with a smile of recognition, but, with a sensation, of relief, she saw him reseat himself as Bill made his way back to her. She couldn't imagine why she welcomed David's refusal to join them; she always enjoyed his company but, instinctively, she recoiled from sharing him. The unworthy, thought so shamed her that she lowered her head over her plate as Bill

approached. Somehow, she felt she might betray that feeling in her glance. Julia need not have worried. Bill was not the discerning type and he was far too easy-going to suspect subtlety in others; with a contented smile he returned to his neglected dinner. ''Tactful chap, Mellor; insisted on not interrupting us but compromised by promising to take coffee at our table. Glad I asked him, all the same; I can't help thinking it was the right thing to do," he concluded' complacently. "I'm sure it was!" Julia responded briefly while she made every effort to appear as nonchalant as her companion. It seemed almost unbelievable that David's acceptance or refusal of his invitation could make so little difference to Bill. It was merely a question of 'the right thing', while the mare prospect of David's joining them had thrown her into a state of emotional confusion and instead of the ease and relaxation she had previously been enjoying, she now felt strained and awkward. Bill, oblivious to the fact that Julia was in any way perturbed, went on chatting , with complete unconcern. She had never been more grateful for his ready flow of small talk, and interposing a word here and there to make a show of interest, she concentrated upon her meal, but that, too, had suddenly become tasteless. "We'd better not order our coffee until Mellor joins us," Bill stated as the waiter removed their plates and flicked the table clear of crumbs. "Doesn't look as though he'll be long now," he added, after a quick glance towards David's table. "Why, here he comes already." "Sure I'm not interrupting you?" With a quiet smile for Julia, David took the chair which a waiter 'hastily drew up for him. Seating himself, he withdrew his cigarette-case and handed it across to Bill, then, snapping it closed, he replaced it in his pocket. "I'm just

getting used to the idea that Julia doesn't smoke. It's quite refreshing to find a girl who doesn't, these days." "I find lots of things that are refreshing about Julia!" Bill smiled affectionately in her direction. "She has managed to retain an astonishing aura of innocence despite nearly three months at St Anne's!" Julia felt her cheeks flush at Bill's glance and the imputation of his words, and she was glad of the waiter's opportune appearance and the necessary interruption in the conversation as he set the coffee cups and placed the sprit lamp beneath the glass bowl of the percolator. At last, having got her emotions under control, she directly addressed David. "Wasn't it strange that I should come back here you remember it was the first restaurant I'd ever visited in London Bill and I were going to Janin's in Piccadilly, but it was raining so hard and we couldn't get a taxi, then he suddenly remembered this place." "I couldn't think who had first recommended it to me," Bill broke in. "I remember now, sir, it was you - that time when Dad came down from Scotland to see me. I hardly knew London at all in those days and I asked you where I should take him." "I can't say I remember that," David laughed. "But I've been awning here for years. I usually recommend it if anyone asks me for a quiet spot for a good meal." The gist of the conversation had only just dawned on Bill and he looked at Julia with some curiosity. "So you've been here before?" He paused, transferring his glance to David. "You'd dined here together?" He could not manage to conceal the note of surprise in his question.

"Yes, when Julia first came to England. I knew her in Paris; in fact it was I who introduced her to St. Anne's." "Oh, I see. Now I come to think of it, someone did mention the fact that you'd backed her application." Bill seemed quite satisfied with the explanation and Julia couldn't help wondering what else he could have imagined; failing some previous introduction it must have appeared odd that she had dined with a senior member of the medical staff so soon after her arrival at St. Anne's. During the half-hour that the three lingered over their coffee, Julia remained for the most part a silent listener and it was with a pang of regret that she watched the waited put the bill, neatly folded on a plate, at Bill's elbow. As they stood grouped in the doorway ready for the homeward journey, David spoke. "Can I give you a lift? I've got my car here and I'm calling at St. Anne's on my way back." "That would be fine, wouldn't it, Julia? It's still raining like the very devil and we're bound to have a job finding a taxi - couldn't get one for love or money when we came out of the theatre," Bill explained to David, then turning again to Julia he tucked his hand firmly beneath. her arm. "Come along, Julia my sweet, this is a stroke of luck, isn't it?" Julia had become so accustomed to Bill's endearments, she knew now that they meant absolutely nothing and had ceased to notice them. But on this occasion she felt overcome with selfconsciousness and she was certain that in David's expression she had detected a flicker of surprise. She was infinitely relieved to escape from the lighted doorway into the comparative gloom of the car, hit her momentary confidence soon deserted her when she found that it was Reynolds who was driving and she was consequently destined to sit closely between the two men in the back seat. Since it was a large car and there was ample room for three, she felt sure it was unnecessary for Bill to sit so close. His

shoulder leaned against hers, and any effort to increase the distance between them would only have brought her closer to David. Was it her imagination or had David grown unusually silent during that agonizing ride? Beyond an occasional monosyllable in reply to a remark of Bill's, he had scarcely spoken since they had left the restaurant. "Well, here we are, sir, and thanks tremendously for the lift." Bill, unaware of anything untoward, smiled gratefully, then forestalling the chauffeur who was just alighting, opened the door and held out a hand to assist Julia to alight. "Just a moment, Trent" Julia, who had already half risen from her seat, paused as David spoke, instinctively turning towards him to her what he was about to say. "Do me a favour, will you? Ring through to Bellamy Ward and ask Night Sister if she wants me to see that new admission - she phoned me about it earlier this evening. I'll look in now if she's worried, otherwise it can wait over until the morning." He paused, then added, "Julia had better wait here in the car until you come back, then you can escort her across to the Nurses' Home." With Bill's departure it was as if some invisible tension had snapped, but even as Julia relaxed against the upholstered seat she recognized something alien in the silence and was relieved when David spoke. "I wanted an opportunity of having a word with you alone. I've been working late every night lately. This evening was the first time I've been free. I rang through to you, but of course, you were out. You must have been wondering what I was proposing to do about this mock engagement of ours; I know Joan has kept her word. It hasn't gone beyond us three, but all the same, I feel it must be causing you some embarrassment and, naturally, you want to get things put straight as soon as possible. I think it will be safe to let Joan know pretty soon now that we've changed our minds - could you bear to hang on, say, for another week?" As Julia nodded her

head mutely, her companion went on. "Perhaps you could come along and have dinner with me to-morrow night, then we can discuss it. Could you be at the flat about eight?" "Yes, I can manage that." Julia's toneless voice gave no indication whatever of the joyous anticipation the invitation had evoked and although she could not banish the light which had come to her eyes, it was undiscernible in the dimly-lit interior of the car. "I need not tell you how much your co-operation has helped me. I shall never be able to thank you enough. But to-night has shown me more clearly than anything that I had no right to do it." As Julia remained in a stunned state of silence David spoke with unmistakable meaning. "Bill is a nice boy, Julia, with a fine future, too. Don't let what has happened distress you. If Joan should ever speak of our engagement, if it should ever come to light, then, regardless of the cost, I promise you I'll lay my cards on the table, whatever suffering it may cause Joan." Julia was about to utter the cry of protest which rose instinctively to her lips, as Bill's smiling face appeared at the car window. "All's well, sir. Willis has been up to the ward, he says Sister is panicking quite unnecessarily and that you can go home with an easy conscience." Opening the door, he leaned in and took up Julia's hand which lay listlessly on her lap. "Come, Julia darling, you know you haven't a late pass. We'll have to run for it if you want to make it in time." Perhaps it was as well that there was no opportunity for delayed farewells and certainly Julia was grateful that she could do no more than give Bill a wave of her hand as she passed the porter's lodge and the gate clanged behind her. It was only as she readied her own room and saw the chink of light coming from Joan's door, that she recalled that earlier that day she had promised Joan to drop in for a late coffee, and, with a sigh of resignation, she turned from the

inviting prospect of her own sanctum and, lifting her hand, knocked softly on Joan's door. Her knock was immediately followed by a summons to enter. Preparations had obviously been made few: her arrival; two chairs were drawn up before the electric fire and a tea-tray was set on a low stool between them; a decorative tin held an assortment of biscuits and the kettle on a small Primus was already steaming. "You're nice and early," Joan greeted her. "I'm so glad. It will give us plenty of time for a chat." Julia took the cup of tea which her companion offered, then accepted a biscuit "You know I really shouldn't be eating again. I've only just finished my dinner." "Of course, you've been out with David. Did you have a nice evening?" Joan seated herself in the chair opposite Julia. "I've scarcely caught a glimpse of him lately I know he's been terribly busy. He just rushes in and out of the ward - how is he?" she enquired conversationally. Julia was infinitely glad to be able to answer, with some truth; their chance meeting had certainly proved lucky and for the next few moments she was able to reply to all Joan's questions without the necessity of any unpleasant evasions. When Joan asked her if David had been called in to the new admission to Bellamy, Julia knew all about it. In fact, those few moments of his company had given her enough information to make her answers appear quite straightforward. "I suppose you are busy now buying your trousseau? That's a new suit you have on, isn't it? It's most becoming." Joan spoke with warmth. "You are very easy to fit, aren't you? I'm so tall, it's much more difficult for me. Antonia was like you, she looked lovely in

anything." She broke off, then setting down her cup rose to her feet and crossing to her dressing-table began to search in one of the drawers. "Here's a snap of her I came across yesterday - it's a lovely one of her, sunbathing at Cannes - now where did I put it? Oh, here it is!" She closed the drawer and turned again to Julia holding out a small album in her hand. "Yes, it's a very attractive picture," Julia admitted. "Did you take it?" "No. It was taken by a patient I happened to be nursing at the time." At Julia's obvious look of surprise, Joan went on to explain. "I suppose you're wondering how I came to be with a patient in Cannes? After my training I did private nursing because it gave me opportunities for getting away with Antonia on some of her tours, as I was able to take time off between cases. This particular patient I originally nursed in a nursing home, then I went to the South of France with him while he convalesced. We were there about three weeks in all, and Antonia, who'd been attending a musical festival in Florence, joined us for a few days on her way back to England." "Oh, I see." Julia, curious to know more of Joan's life, encouraged her to continue. "Did you start your training at St. Anne's?" "No, I started at St. Goddard's after I'd left school. I was just crazy to take up nursing. My mother was alive then, but after her death Antonia naturally became my responsibility. It was difficult as I was living in - that was really why, the moment I was fully qualified, I changed to private work. I couldn't give up nursing entirely because the money helped so much with Antonia's training; I took a small flat for her and when I wasn't on a case I lived there, too. It's a tremendous uphill job to earn a living as a musician. She was just beginning to make a name for herself when she married."

"Tell me, Joan - if it doesn't distress you too much to talk about it was Antonia married for long, and, if she was ill, why on earth did she travel to Paris?" "Oh, I don't mind talking about it," Joan assured her, but those bitter lines with which Julia was all to familiar had returned to her lips as she went on, "She and David had only been married about a year when the tragedy happened. Renato Marvini, the Italian concert pianist, was performing in Paris. She never would miss one of his recitals if she could help it; she admired him tremendously. But David, knowing her condition, should never have let her go. She'd only been in Paris a few days when she wrote me from a nursing home; I was looking after a serious case at the time and couldn't get away, but I knew that David had gone over immediately so I wasn't really worried. Well, you know the end." "Yes." Julia immediately diverted the conversation, "Tell me, did you like private nursing?" "It suited me then; I was able to get so much more free time, but I naturally prefer ward work; it's far more interesting." "But it must have been fun to travel with patients. Going to Cannes, for instance. You must have loved that." "That sort of thing doesn't often happen," Joan pointed out. "It's, usually just routine work in nursing homes, or even in the patient's own house. That particular case was the only time I went abroad with a patient...." Her words died away and an almost tender smile curved her lips. "That was a very special occasion. He was such an interesting man, I - I grew quite attached to him." There was a barely perceptible break in her voice at her final admission. "You were in love with him, weren't you?" Having asked the direct question Julia found herself waiting in some trepidation for the

reply. How was Joan going to take it? Would she realize it was merely her wish for a deeper understanding or would she look upon it as an impertinence? "Whatever makes you think that?" There was no anger in Joan's voice, only an ineffectual attempt to make light of the question, but the becoming colour which now suffused her cheeks and neck betrayed her. "Please don't think I am inquisitive." With an impulsive gesture Julia leaned forward and rested her hand for a moment on her companion's. "It's just that I want to know you - to understand you better." Joan smiled. "I don't mind you knowing that I was in love with this man. We were to have been married." Julia recalled that she had heard something about Joan being engaged, but she couldn't even remember who had told her, and at the time she had scarcely given the matter a moment's thought. "I'm sorry, Joan - will you tell me why it never came to anything?" Joan instilled a note of nonchalance into her voice, but the smile faded from her face. "It was all very difficult. . . . You see, I had Antonia to consider. She was my responsibility. You remember she joined us when I was with my patient in Cannes. Somehow they never got on very well together. I should, naturally, have wanted to give her a home with us. It's extremely doubtful whether that would have worked out. It wasn't only that which led to our eventual break. My fiance did a considerable amount of business abroad. Sometimes he was away for months together. Once we were married I should have travelled with him, and that would have meant leaving Antonia behind. I had no choice. I had to give him up."

Julia choked back the criticism which rose to her lips. It seemed such a waste of happiness; such a challenge to fate, yet she could readily understand the sense of affection and duty which had prompted the sacrifice. If she herself had had a younger sister to cherish would she not have acted in just the same way? "You've never seen him since? Didn't you try to get in touch again afterwards?" Joan, having unburdened herself of her story, seemed more relaxed, and when she answered her voice was quite steady. "No. You see, he was only in England for broken periods. Besides, it was quite a lapse of time. Antonia didn't marry until a year after our parting and then it was too late. He'd gone right out of my life by that time. He might even have been married. It's long ago now and it's all quite forgotten. ..." Joan absentmindedly flicked over the leaves of the album she still held, then, no doubt feeling it was time to change the conversation to less personal subjects, she spoke somewhat at random. "It's nice to have snapshots of a holiday. They're such lovely mementoes." "Yes, I want to get a camera. I must take photos of the places I visit in London and send them to Paris." Joan had already lost interest in the conversation and was now staring intently at a page of the album 'which lay open in her hand. "Would you care to see this? ... I took this one myself; I think it's rather good. It's one of that patient I was telling you about on the balcony of the hotel at Cannes." Julia took the book again and, trying to show interest, concentrated upon the picture image of a man leaning against a stone balustrade, a tall figure in a white open- necked shirt which contrasted strongly with his obviously bronzed neck and face. Julia's assumed interest

was quickly replaced by a feeling of startled disbelief and it was only with difficulty that she was able to restrain the gasp which rose to her lips. It was only a snapshot, yet there was no doubt, whatever, as to the original of the portrait, and Julia knew with absolute certainty that she was staring at a picture of none other than her own uncle, Richard Mailing.

During her years at the Convent, Julia's frequent wanderings into a world of fantasy had been fostered by her own narrow existence and circumscribed mode of living. She had dreamed of that world about which she had known so little; of a barely remembered England and of the day when she might one day return. Nciw, the intricate pattern of her life left her little time for idle fantasies, and, finding herself held in grip by the many problems which had come her way, she was forced to abandon dreaming in order to grapple with hard facts. As she sat in an armchair in the nurses' lounge, she was immersed in thought, while she relived again the events of the previous evening which led up to her astonishing discovery. At moments she had wondered Whether the whole thing hadn't been fostered by her growing understanding and sympathy for Joan; whether she hadn't let her imagination run riot. But no, there could have been no mistaking that photo, unless, of course, Richard Mailing had a double. But she dismissed that idea as absurd. She was infinitely glad that she had managed to hide her surprise; some instinct had warned her that this was not a belief to be blurted out, and, even now, after thought and consideration, she remained unsure of the right steps to take. Julia longed to ask advice of Molly, or even David, but Joan's secret, she felt, was not hers to disclose; she had no alternative but to act alone. Her uncle, she had heard, was due back from New York

within a few days, but even then her path was scarcely clear, since, although she knew with certainty that Joan's feelings were still unchanged, how about Richard Mailing's? True, he had remained unmarried; Julia supposed he was a comparatively young man; but might he not have settled contentedly into that bachelor existence to which he must long ago have resigned himself? To-night she would be seeing David; she had no doubt he would tell her there was no longer any need to keep up their pretence of an engagement; that the danger mark with Joan had passed and there was no further need of subterfuge. She raised her eyes to stare unseeingly through the tall, grimed windows; nothing ever seemed really clean in London and at that moment her mind, like the windows, was fogged and obscure. "Oh, Julia, so there you are!" Molly's white-coated figure appeared unexpectedly at her elbow. "I've been up to Bellamy. Pat Brown told me you were off this afternoon, so I guessed I'd find you here." "How nice to see you!" Julia spoke with genuine pleasure. She was delighted to be diverted from her own troubled thoughts. "But whatever brought you along? You ought to be working, oughtn't you?" "Yes. I'm on duty so I can only stay a second. As a matter of fact I have a message for you. Chris phoned and asked me to pass on a message from David. He's terribly sorry, he's been called to a case out of London and can't be back until late. He'll fix up another time when he's free," "Oh, I see. . ." Julia tried hard not to show her disappointment. "You are a dark horse!" Molly laughed. "You didn't even tell me you had a date with David."

"I couldn't tell you," Julia explained. "He only asked me last night. I haven't seen you since then. You remember, I was out with Bill; we happened to have dinner in the same restaurant as David; he joined us for coffee, then, as it was pouring with rain, he offered us a lift back here in his car. It was then he suggested I dine with him tonight." "All right, you're forgiven." Molly was obviously amused at Julia's appearance of concern. "Don't look so worried, I was only fooling. You don't think I really imagined you were carrying on a clandestine affair with David, did you?" she ended with a burst of laughter. "I've hardly seen him since that night when I went to his rooms to confess about that wretched letter,' Julia went on ruefully. 'What a visit that was, too. I'll never forget that awful business with Joan as long as I live." "She has improved so much lately, hasn't she?" "Yes. Molly, I want to ask you something," Julia confided. "You think that Joan is attractive, don't you? I mean, she's still quite young; she might get married some day, mightn't die?" "You do ask the most extraordinary questions!" Molly halted in her task, the boiling kettle suspended in midair. "I can't think why Joan Meredith's future should concern you, but, since you want to know, I suppose she is attractive," Molly admitted somewhat grudgingly. "In fact, judging from that portrait die's got struck on her dressingtable, I should say she isn't unlike her sister. She's got lovely hair and eyes, and those very rare occasions when she smiles - about once a year I should say" - she interposed with a laugh - "she's almost pretty. But as to getting married - well! in my opinion, she hasn't any time for men."

Molly hesitated, then went on, "I've got something to tell you, Julia. It's about John and me. We're all fixed up now. John has taken a job in Leeds. We're getting married in the autumn." "Molly, how wonderful!" Julia's eyes shone with pleasure. "I'm too thrilled for words!" She paused before continuing in a more serious voice, "I needn't tell you how much I'm going to miss you. At least, I suppose we'll have you here until after the summer. Thank goodness you haven't sprung it on me too suddenly. How about Christine? What will she do? But then she's more or less engaged, too, isn't she?" "There's been what you might call an 'understanding' between Chris and Dr. Hands for the past two years. They'll marry eventually. There isn't any doubt of that, but they aren't either of them impetuous like John and me. They'll drift on quite happily just as they are for at least another year or so." Molly took a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of her white overall and, taking one, applied a light. Shaking out the match, she placed it in the ashtray on her desk. "Chris isn't like me. She won't do anything in a hurry. All her plans will have to be carefully laid before she embarks upon an important step like marriage." "Molly, I'm so glad for you; so very glad," Julia repeated, and there was little doubt as to the sincerity of her words; if there was any underlying feeling in her heart at all, it was not of jealousy. Only a deep sense of gratitude that Molly had won her heart's desire and that she, at least, would never know the pain and frustration of forever seeking for something completely out of reach.

CHAPTER VIII IT was not until her first meeting with her uncle after his return from the States that Julia realized how much she must have changed in the four months since she had left the Convent. On his rare but periodic visits to her there, she had always felt diffident and awkward in his presence. Even after a long interval there seemed little or nothing to tell him and it would be left to him to fill in the uncomfortable periods of silence which invariably fell between them. During her childhood and adolescence he had remained her only link with the outside world, and she had always looked forward to each succeeding visit with excitement and expectancy. Now, as she sat with him in the sitting-room of his flat, she knew, without doubt, how much these months had altered her. There had been so much to explain and recount that she had scarcely known where to begin and the morning hours had slipped by while they laughed and chatted together. His admiring glance had told her how much he appreciated the change, and she had warmed to his words when, after their first greeting, holding her hands at arm's length, he had commented on her smart and soignee appearance. As they sat together over their coffee Julia was aware of a sense of well-being and contentment. "I must be back at hospital by two, but I'll be free this evening. Shall I be able to see you again, then?" "Of course. I'm expecting you for dinner - here, I think. We still have plenty to say to one another and I think it's more congenial than a restaurant." "I prefer it," Julia admitted. "I get so few opportunities of a homely meal. Just those awful concoctions they serve up at hospital, or else restaurant food - this is really a great treat."

"I'd like you to come here whenever you can - make the most of the flat - treat it like your own home." Richard Mailing paused to apply a match to his pipe, then, having got it to draw to his satisfaction, expelled a spiral of smoke. "Unfortunately, I must get away again; South Africa this time; but, with any luck, I should be back by the summer and then I really hope to settle in England for a bit." "So you're going away again?" There was unfeigned regret in Julia's voice. "How long will you have here? Are you leaving very soon?" "In a fortnight," Richard smiled and Julia found herself noticing his appearance. She'd never really been interested before; she'd liked him and taken him for granted; but now, trying to see him with Joan's eyes, she realized for the first time that he was definitely attractive; his lean face was tanned, emphasizing the deep, almost twinkling blue of his eyes, and, although Julia knew he could no longer be very young, there was not a thread of grey in the thick black hair which waved back from his temples. He had always appeared incredibly tall, but then Joan was tall, too. . . . Julia deliberately shut out the thought. This was not, as yet, the moment, but soon - very soon now, for it could not be much longer deferred, she would mention Joan's name and then - then she would know the answer to that question which had filled her thoughts since she'd stared with unbelieving eyes at that revealing snapshot. The knowledge that her uncle was to leave town again shortly was not only disappointing from a personal point of view, but something of a shock; now there was but a limited time to bring about a meeting between Joan and Richard Mailing, but all would depend upon any reaction he might show at the mention of Joan's name. Perhaps he'd forgotten her name, it might not even be a memory - she thought was so depressing that Julia determinedly set it aside. "Don't look so gloomy." Her uncle recalled her to the present with a teasing smile. "I'll be back here by the summer and then, as I've told you, I'm hoping for a long stay." Then, no doubt intending to divert

Julia's thoughts, he changed the conversation. "There is one thing I want to do while I'm here and that is thank the doctor who was so kind to you when you arrived in London and found me missing. I can't bear to think what you'd have done without a helping hand. I feel I owe him a word of gratitude. Tell me where can I get in touch with him?" "You mean Dr. Mellor? I was certainly lucky to meet him and he was more than kind. You remember I had to borrow money from him, too. I think it would be a good idea if you could just phone some time and thank him," Julia agreed. "I most certainly will." Richard made a note of the number which Julia gave him, then went on, "He's a busy man, I expect. What would you say was the best time to catch him?" "He's always in during the morning for consultations, lunches at home, then spends the afternoon in hospital. I expect you'd catch him any time before two." "Then why not now?" Richard stretched out his hand for the telephone, and consulting the rough note he had made, dialled the number. While waiting for the connection, he turned again to Julia. "I'd like to ask him over one evening. It would, at least, show my appreciation. Perhaps you could bring him along some time and introduce us. . . ." He broke off as he heard a voice on the line, then spoke into the receiver. "It's Richard Mailing here ... if Dr. Mellor could spare me a moment... no, it's a personal call ... tell him I'm Miss Dolland's uncle." During the brief wait he only had time to anile at Julia, then no doubt recalled to the matter in hand by David's voice across the wire, again turned his attention to the telephone.

Julia listened to the one-sided conversation in a complete daze. She was aware of her uncle's words of thanks but could only imagine David's reply. There was a further exchange of words, the purport of which Julia could not gather until she heard the invitation issued. "Julia will be coming along to dine with me to-night. Why don't you come, too? I'll be delighted to meet you." It must have been at some remark made by David that Richard laughed before going on to say, "I won't take that as an excuse. Let the work go for once. I'll expect you . . . what's that? . . . yes, right you are, Mellor, I'll tell her. So long, then. Ill be looking forward to making your acquaintance." The bell tinkled as Richard replaced the receiver and turned to Julia who, unable to contain her impatience, could not wait for him to speak. "Well, what did he say? Is he coming?" "Yes, he's joining us to-night. I'm glad he happened to be free. By the way, he asked me to tell you that he'd pick you up outside the hospital gates at seven-thirty." Julia only nodded her understanding, scarcely trusting herself to speak for fear of betraying her pleasure. She was relieved when her uncle, quite unaware of the delightful prospect with which he had unwittingly presented her, went on speaking. "I say, Julia, I quite forgot to ask you. Is this chap married? If he is, then of course I should have asked him to bring his wife." "No, he's a widower." Julia felt every nerve in her body tense. This was the moment she had been waiting for! With an assumed calm which had no relation whatever to her inward feelings she went on, "He lost his wife three years ago. He was married to Antonia Meredith, the pianist. Joan, her sister, is at St. Anne's. She's the staff nurse on the ward I'm attached to." She caught her breath as her eyes anxiously and eagerly sought Richard Mailing's features for any telltale sign, but she was doomed to bitter disappointment. At that moment the strident ring of the telephone interrupted them and he had already turned to answer it before she had finished speaking. All

she could see was his back in its well- fitted jacket and the smooth line of his dark hair. After Julia's careful consideration and timing, it was terribly disappointing and she couldn't even be certain that the bell hadn't drowned her words. She knew he had grasped the fact that David was a widower. His expression had been one of relief that he had not done the wrong thing in omitting to include a wife in his invitation, but whether he had gathered one single word more of what she had said, Julia had no idea. It had been a wrong number, too; at that moment Julia wished heartily that the telephone had never been invented! "Well, Julia, how about it? You've got to get back to hospital and I've some business to deal with this afternoon, so I think we should both be moving." Julia glanced at the clock. "Good gracious, yes, I was forgetting the time." She rose and picked up her handbag. "I'll be seeing you to-night - now, can I call you a taxi?" "No, thanks, I get a bus right to the door." Julia never remembered having taken such pains with her appearance as she did that evening, and as she twisted round before her long mirror she felt justifiably satisfied with the result. The green silk dress she had chosen, with Molly as her guide, was a wonderful contrast to the russet-gold of her hair. But it seemed to over-emphasize that almost transparent pallor of her skin, she considered critically, not realizing that the delicacy of her colouring only contributed to the picture reflected in the mirror. Fortunately, not possessing any rouge, there was nothing she could do about it, so slipping into her new black coat she took up her handbag and hurried along to the lift.

It was wonderful to be seated by David's side in the car. She was glad Reynolds wasn't there. Somehow, it seemed so much nicer when David was driving. She could sit in front with an uninterrupted view of the London streets and see his sure handling of the steering wheel and gears. How little she had really seen of David those months she had been in London! But each meeting, each intimate hour, was as a shining landmark dividing the weeks since she left St. Clare's. His daily visits to the ward had been the force which had spurred her on and given her confidence. . . . Very shortly now she would be forced to forgo that; once she had transferred from Bellamy she would never see him. She loved the work, loved every moment of it, and yet, she wondered, wouldn't all incentive go if David were no longer a part of her working hours? "I was sorry I had to put off our appointment for dinner the other night." David's words awoke Julia from her reverie. "I haven't had a free evening since or I should have contacted you. I really shouldn't have come out this evening, but your uncle proved too persuasive and then, of course, it afforded me the opportunity of seeing you." Julia glanced up at the words, but it wasn't sufficiently light to see her companion's expression, and she had no idea as to whether the remark was merely a polite formality or seriously intended. He went on, "By the way, where is your uncle's place? Somewhere near Sloane Square, isn't it?" "Yes. We're quite early. Could we go through the park?" Julia was scarcely aware of what had prompted the question. Then, suddenly, she knew she could no longer keep her knowledge of Joan's relationship with Richard to herself. It had now become a matter of urgency. Her uncle was leaving so soon she felt no longer capable of handling it herself and longed for David's help. "Perhaps you could

draw up for a few moments somewhere. There's something I want to discuss with you." After entering the wide iron gates David steered the car into the line of traffic circling the park, then after a few minutes' drive drew into the side and switched off the engine. With slow deliberation he turned round in the driving seat until he faced his companion. "I can well imagine what's troubling you. . . he began, but before he could continue Julia had broken in. "You can't possibly know! It's something I felt I had no right to share with anyone, but now I find I can't manage alone. I want your help." There was an underlying note of urgency in Julia's voice which could not but attract David's notice and she knew she had his full attention as she went on to explain. "Perhaps you never knew about it, but at one time Joan was engaged." Sensing her companion's expression of surprise, she went on quickly, "It was ages ago, before Antonia was married. Joan told me about it herself. It seems that she nursed this man long before she came to St Anne's when she was doing private work. The engagement was broken because Joan wouldn't desert Antonia." Julia found herself taking a deep breath before continuing, "I've found out by the merest chance that the man was my Uncle Richard!" "But it sounds fantastic. Are you quite sure?" "I'm certain," Julia affirmed. "He and Joan haven't seen one another for years. After they separated they completely lost touch with one another. Had they ever thought of renewing their friendship it must have been too late. Uncle spent months abroad; in those days he didn't have any settled home in London, so Joan could never have found him had she wanted to. As you know, she gave up their, home when Antonia married, and went into St Anne's, Locating just one

nurse out of the many in London would have been like seeking a needle in a haystack." "Perhaps they've never wanted to meet again," David reminded her gently. "That's what bothers me." Julia's smooth forehead crinkled into a frown. "I know that Joan is still in love with Richard - of course, I never let her realize that I'd guessed the identity of the man - but it's Uncle I don't know about. You see, I've no way of finding out whether he still cares. Men are so different - not nearly so romantic; he may have forgotten her by now and got quite used to being a bachelor," she ended somewhat naively. David laughed softly and there was still a gentle smile playing round the corner of his lips as he spoke. "I suppose you could ask him." "Of course I couldn't, not outright." Julia dismissed the suggestion, then went on to tell David of her wellrehearsed plan and its ultimate failure. "If only I could have seen his reaction when I mentioned Joan's name I'd have known then and all that remained was to engineer a meeting." "It certainly would be unwise to bring them together until you know how your uncle feds about Joan," David admitted, then went on, "What do you expect me to do about it? You've said yourself that men are unromantic. I shouldn't have the slightest idea how to play the part of Cupid." Julia couldn't help smiling despite her troubled mind. The idea of David masquerading as Cupid gave her a visual picture of his broad back decorated with a pair of diminutive wings, while those capable hands dealt with a toy set of bow and arrows. Becoming serious again she went on, "I feel we ought to do something."

"You say your uncle will only be here a couple of weeks. I suggest we get to-night over first. Maybe one of us will find an opportunity of introducing Joan's name again; then there'll be two of us to watch for reactions." "You do it - please," Julia begged. "I know I'll only make a mess of it again. I've thought so much about it that I'll feel self-conscious and probably give the whole thing away." "Now that's settled we'd better snatch at this opportune moment to discuss our own affairs. I know how you must be chafing against this mock engagement of ours - I'm sorry, Julia, I know how much you've hated it. I see that it mustn't go on any longer. You can tell Joan that it's all over at any time now that you think fit." There was a note of resignation in his voice and his air of gravity was in strong contrast to his previous mood. "Oh, no!" Julia protested. "I can't tell Joan now. Don't you see that if she and Uncle Richard come together again then that will be the time. She'll be far too happy to feel any concern about our affairs it's worth waiting to see how things go first. Surely you see that?" "You're relying a lot on this wholly problematical love of Joan's, aren't you? After all, it must be quite five years ago, and people change, you know. If I lack romance then I'd say you have enough for both of us, but this is life, Julia, not a fairy story with a happy ending," he reminded her gently. For a moment Julia remained silent and there was a despondent droop to her figure as she rested back in her seat, then, with a sudden return to her previous air of confidence, she spoke again. "Anyway, we've got to try and help, and I'm not going to tell Joan that we've broken our engagement until I have tp, and that won't be until the very last moment, when Uncle sets out for South Africa."

"That's for you to decide." David turned the key of the car, then touched the starter. "I think we should be moving now." There was a finality about his words which Julia found difficult to understand until he went on speaking. "I've released you from the promise you gave me to let Joan believe we were to be married. Now you must do as you please, but, whatever happens, I do beg of you not to allow your hopes for Joan or the service you've rendered me in any way to jeopardize your own happiness." So he was still thinking she cared for Bill? It hardly seemed to Julia worth while denying anything so utterly ludicrous. Of course, had she really cared for Bill it would have been difficult to accept an offer of marriage with the ever-present danger of Joan disclosing her engagement to David, but since there wasn't a man in the world, except David himself, in whom she was the slightest bit interested, apart from the fact that she hated deceiving Joan, this so-called engagement presented no hardship whatever. Of course, it was ridiculous, but, somehow, she was loath to end this charade; sometimes in that world of dreams to which she loved to escape, she would imagine their engagement to be real, could picture the golden future with David always at her side, the joy and happiness they would share and the summit of fulfilment which they could together attain.

CHAPTER IX WHEN Julia, accompanied by David, entered the sitting- room of Richard Mailing's flat, her first impression was one of complete bewilderment, and for a brief moment she felt sure that her always fertile imagination was playing some trick on her. It couldn't be true; it wasn't possible; yet there, silhouetted against the background of the bay windows, like a perfect portrait in oils, stood Joan Meredith! Her tall, elegant figure was sheathed in a dress of rich, red velvet, while the vivid glow in her cheeks, and her dark coiled hair, presented a warm and vital beauty, totally different from her customary appearance.' With an unconscious gesture, Julia drew her hand across her eyes as if to dispel the vision, but now Joan was actually moving with graceful measured step towards her and Richard Mailing's voice finally broke the spell. "I expect you're surprised, Julia, and you, too, Mellor, to find Joan here, but I know neither of you need any introduction." He smiled as he perceived Julia's air of unbelief. "Don't look so dazed, Julia. Joan and I are old friends. We'd lost touch with one another for some years past, but this morning, quite inadvertently, you gave me a hint as to where I might find her. . . . Well, I did find her, that's all!" So this was really true and not just a dream! A surge of joy filled Julia to the exclusion of all else, and with an instinctive gesture she flung her arms round Joan's neck. "Oh, Joan, I'm so glad you're here, so glad - so very glad!" Her words were muffled as the two girls embraced, and Joan's whole attitude reflected the pleasure which Julia's spontaneous gesture had evoked. "You certainly do seem glad to see me, Julia. Anyway, it's thanks to you that I'm hare. If it hadn't been for you, Richard and I would never have found one another."

"Joan's right, and I've no intention of losing her again, either." Richard Mailing advanced to Joan's side, and linking his arm in hers drew her close. "We want you to be the first to know, Julia, and, of course, you, too, Mellor, that Joan and I are to be married in time for her to go with me to South Africa." "I'm so pleased." Julia turned a radiant face to David. "Isn't it wonderful?" "I'm delighted." David shook Richard by the hand, and taking Joan's hand within his own, kissed her lightly. "I hope Mailing won't resent this familiarity, but we are almost related." He laughed, then went on with deep sincerity, "I wish you every happiness, Joan. You certainly deserve it." The evening which followed was one of the happiest Julia had ever known. As she had expected, David and Richard seemed to have foamed an instant liking for one another, and as for Joan, Julia had never believed such a change possible in anyone. Her happiness seemed to pervade the whole room. After a celebration champagne dinner, they sat talking of many things, but mostly of the future. It seemed to Julia that both Richard and Joan deliberately avoided any mention of the past. "We'll be marrying on the Friday and shall fly straight off. You'll have to be there, Mellor, and work won't be any excuse. I expect you to be my best man." Richard turned to Julia. "No maids of honour, I'm afraid, Julia, just a register office affair. Both Joan and I want the wedding as quiet as possible." When eventually the conversation turned to more general matters Joan crossed from her chair and slipped into a place beside Julia on the sofa, and ignoring the men she addressed the younger girl in undertones. "You can't imagine how grateful I am to you, Julia. I

owe you so much. This has all come about through you. I realize that it was quite by chance that you mentioned my name this morning - imagine, just one single word, and it has meant all the world to me." "I suppose there isn't any harm in telling you now that it wasn't entirely chance. You see, I recognized that snapshot you showed me," Julia admitted. For a moment Joan seemed bereft of words, then, her eyes still wide with amazement, she spoke. "You mean you did it deliberately? Oh, Julia, I hadn't even considered such a possibility!" She paused as she assessed the full meaning of Julia's admission, then impulsively took her hand. "I can never forgive myself for thinking such awful things about you when you first came to St. Anne's. I was beastly to you until David told me the truth. Then I felt so different. It wasn't a bit difficult to change towards you because, curiously enough, I'd always wanted to like you, and when we became friends you'll never know how much your friendship meant to me. . . ." She broke off, then continued, her words coining fast as if she longed to have them spoken. "It's an odd thing to say, Julia, and I do hope you'll understand, but somehow you seemed to fill that awful gap which Antonia left." "Of course I understand," Julia assured her. "I realize now what a fool I've been. I nearly missed everything life had to offer. I am lucky; so lucky to have this second chance." Joan glanced towards the two men, but they still appeared engrossed in their own conversation. "You know, Richard and Antonia didn't get on together; breaking my engagement on her account only tended to widen the breach; I know now that for Richard's sake - and my own - even her name must never be mentioned between us. Julia, will you do me a favour?"

"Why, naturally, I'll do anything I can," Julia agreed, waiting with some curiosity for Joan to continue. "I want you to keep Antonia's portrait for me, the photo albums and all the mementoes, too; pack them away somewhere. I shan't want them again, but somehow I could never bring myself to destroy them. I shall always cherish her in my memory, but, from now on, it must be nothing more." "Of course I'll do as you ask," Julia consented readily, her smile showing more than any words how much she approved the action. She rejoiced to realize that Joan was going forward into this new life with her heart cleansed of all the bitterness it had harboured for so many years. Having unburdened herself of what had been foremost in her mind, Joan deliberately changed the subject. "I hear John Willis is engaged to Molly O'Rea. Shell be missed at St Anne's. Such an excellent radiographer, too!" Indeed, Joan had changed ! It was the first time Julia had heard her admit that Molly had any degree of efficiency. "You'll be missed, too, Joan. Sister James is so dependent on you." "There are many who won't be sorry," Joan laughed, but it was a happy sound, free from all malice. "I know I've been difficult at times, but a staff nurse's job isn't all honey. You'll find that out one day . . . but no, of course you won't; you'll be married long before then." Raising her voice, she brought the two men into the conversation. "I know it was supposed to be a secret and I promised not to disclose it to anyone, but surely Richard doesn't come into the category of 'anyone'. Darling, do you realize that Julia and David are engaged?"

Richard looked first at David and then at Julia as if for confirmation, but there was, little doubt that he was delighted at the news. "Congratulations, both of you! Nothing could please me more!" He shook his finger at Julia in mock annoyance. "I notice you didn't tell me this morning!" "You can't imagine how secretive they've both been," Joan exclaimed. ^They've been friends for ages, but they seem to have taken a long time to make up their minds." "We've taken a fair time ourselves, so we can hardly blame -them for that!" Richard laughed. At the sound of her uncle's laughter, Julia breathed freely again. Joan's reference to a long-standing friendship had for the moment filled her with apprehension. Supposing he had questioned it, how on earth could they have explained it away? The danger moment had passed; Richard Mailing appeared far too absorbed with this new development to be concerned with details and was already bombarding both David and herself with queries as to their future plans. Still ill at ease and fearful of the direction the conversation was taking, Julia rose to her feet. "I really ought to be getting back to hospital. I'm awfully sorry, but I'll have to break up the party." "I'll run you back, Julia," David offered with alacrity, apparently relieved to avoid any further awkward conversation and obviously glad of the reasonable opportunity to leave before other embarrassing questions arose! "No, darling." Richard put a detaining arm round Joan's shoulders as she, too, made to rise. "There isn't any need for you to go yet. I've waited for five years to find you. You don't think I'm going to let you out of my sight a moment before I have to!"

After affectionate good-byes, Julia at last found herself safely tucked in the car by David's side. She emitted an involuntary sigh as she relaxed back into her seat and the car slid into motion. "I take it that was a sigh of relief and not of despair?" David asked with a smile. "Everything seems to have gone to plan. You should be very happy." "Oh, I am!" Julia responded fervently. "It's too wonderful; I can hardly believe it's true. It all seems to have been so ample, and to think how worried I was earlier this evening. I hadn't the faintest idea that everything was going to turn out like this." . "I must admit it was far more than I had ever hoped. Joan gave up so much for her sister. I'm glad she's now been rewarded for that devotion." "Once I'd guessed about Uncle Richard and Joan, I wanted things to come right for them so badly that I suppose it just had to happen." David flashed her a teasing smile. "Tell me, do you always get what you want so long as you want it badly enough?" "No ... at least, I don't think so." Julia spoke softly. She knew that David was referring to her one-time anxiety for admission to St. Anne's. A tremulous smile curved her lips as she wondered what he would say if she told him that her former ambition now seemed unimportant; that, foolishly, she had allowed her work and her emotions to become so entangled that the idea of working on the surgical side, where he would no longer be a part of her daily life, had robbed her work of all incentive. But of course, she couldn't tell him; instead, she must force herself to be practical. "I've been wondering, David. Do you think we need say anything about breaking our engagement until after Joan and Richard are married?

In such a short time they'll be going away; they'll be abroad for months; we can tell them much more easily when they return." 'That's obviously an ideal solution, but what about you?" There was a note of doubt in his voice. "It means another fortnight. Are you sure you don't mind waiting?" "But it makes no difference to me," Julia protested. "No one knows but Joan and Uncle Richard, so how can it possibly affect me? If you think there's anything more than friendship between myself and Bill Trent, let me assure you there isn't!" She put more force into her words than she intended. She felt she could no longer bear David's misunderstanding of that relationship. "Oh - look out!" Julia's cry was involuntary as the wing of the car appeared to scrape dangerously near to an approaching bus. "It's all right, inches to spare!" David reassured her as he swung the car out of range. The incident proved a diversion. It was a pity, because Julia suddenly realized that subconsciously, she had awaited some reaction to her statement. It was too late now; it was clear that David had no intention of pursuing the subject, and when he spoke again the matter was irrelevant. "I suppose you'll get time off for the wedding on Friday?" "Yes, I'm having a week of my summer leave before I change over to the surgical side. I shall probably take it from the Wednesday; that will give me time to see something of Uncle Richard before he goes off again, and then, after they have left, I shall go to Paris and spend my last few days there." "That seems an excellent plan. So you're leaving Bellamy. I suppose you are glad." "I expect I shall get some experience in every department before I complete my training," she replied evasively. It seemed that fate was

being kind to Julia, too, since at that moment the car drew to a standstill before the ornate iron gates enabling her to cut short the conversation. "Thanks so much for driving me back. I'm sorry it's brought you out of your way." "A mere few minutes." David placed a detaining hand on her arm as she prepared to alight. "What's the hurry? It's barely eleven." Julia dropped her hand from the chromium handle of the car door. "No hurry at all really, but..." she began diffidently, but David cut her short. "Didn't Joan look attractive this evening, almost beautiful? In fact she reminded me of Antonia," he murmured reminiscently. Julia felt immeasurably happy to prolong, even by a few moments, this precious sense of intimacy. The swinging lamp above the iron gates partially illuminated the interior of the car, outlining the firm contour of David's features, but his expression told her little. He appeared immersed in his own thoughts and unaware of her beyond the fact that her company afforded him an opportunity to discuss the unexpected events of the evening. "Joan's coming marriage is the very best thing which could have happened; I used to hope that she would ultimately find some consolation, but as the years passed I gave it up as a forlorn hope." He drew out his cigarette- case and took one almost mechanically. "I've tried hard to keep the truth about Antonia from Joan. I knew it would break her heart. Now I feel confident that she need never know. I haven't told you the whole story, have I?" He looked inquiringly towards Julia. "Joan's untiring devotion became a burden to Antonia. She longed for her freedom, the one thing which Joan, unintentionally, withheld. Afterwards, when it was too late, I knew that was Antonia's reason for marrying me. As

my wife she was able to break free from her sister's leading strings. She'd been in love with Renato Marvini for some time. He was a world-famous pianist and also her teacher; he was a married man and under Joan's eagle eye it hadn't proved easy for Antonia and Marvini to carry on their intrigue - once she was my wife, it was far easier." The reflected light now revealed the bitter twist of his mouth and it was with difficulty that Julia thrust back the words of sympathy and distress which sprang to her lips. When she spoke it was with marked restraint. "I begin to understand. It all seems unbelievably tragic." David went on as if Julia had not spoken. "When Antonia went to Paris - that last time - it was to beg Marvini to give up everything and join her, to insist that he fathered his child. . . ." He broke off for a moment, but Julia did not believe that it had been her involuntary gasp which had interrupted his discourse since he still appeared barely conscious of her presence. A hushed silence seemed to hang between than until David continued his story. "Antonia must have suffered terribly at his refusal; the shock no doubt precipitated her confinement. Before she died she told me everything." He paused to throw his half-smoked cigarette deliberately through the opened window of the car. "Her baby survived . . . unfortunately." It was now impossible to ignore Julia's presence. Her half-smothered cry of astonishment had fully awakened her companion to her presence and now he turned deliberately to face her, and there was a gentle, almost tender smile at his lips. "That astonishes you - but I think, when I tell you everything, you'll understand. The child was abnormal; her hips were malformed and up to now most of her life has been spent in hospital. Everything possible has been done for her; perhaps later even further treatment can be tried - the end result I can't possibly foretell. It was far better that Joan should remain ignorant of the child's existence; it could have brought her nothing but pain and the child's appearance, even from the first hour of its

birth, must certainly have been to Joan the irrefutable evidence of her sister's duplicity. No, Julia, I had to keep it from her, and believe me, it was not done without careful consideration." "Where is Antonia's child? Who is caring for her?" Julia gasped out the first questions which came to her mind while she still struggled to bring some kind of order to the chaos of her thoughts. "The red-headed nurse." This time David smiled and his whole manner was more relaxed as if in the telling of his story he had shed some heavy burden. "You remember, she nursed Antonia; afterwards, she agreed to care for the child; she's a trained nurse and the arrangement was idea; in fact most of the three years of Francoise's life have been spent in hospital and Simone has naturally accompanied her." "Simone Recamier?" Julia breathed the name, scarcely realizing she had spoken aloud. "Yes, I don't know what I should have done without her. She's been wonderful and never faltered for one instant from the very trying task she undertook. It hasn't been too easy. Francoise can now stand and even walk a few steps. There's no longer any real nursing required, and Simone must sometimes hanker for the work for which she was really trained." "It's all so clear now." Julia paused a moment, then went cm, "Thank you for telling me." "I've never confided in anyone else - seeing Joan this evening, so miraculously happy in the present and so content in her memories of the past, made me feel I had to tell someone. I had reached that point where I wanted to share my secret and I know that I can trust you."

"I can understand how difficult it must have been for you, but I'm perfectly certain you were right." Julia spoke from her heart and with true sincerity. What suffering the truth would have brought to Joan! She had, at least, been left with her ideals unsullied and untouched. "I know that the general opinion is that I was far too much in love with Antonia ever to consider a second marriage. In a way, I suppose it's true. I was so much in love with my wife that, following her defection, I completely lost faith in my own judgment, and I've never been able to trust or love again. At first I couldn't bring myself to believe a word you told me. You were young and unusually attractive; that set me on my guard immediately. When I found out I'd been wrong about you, I was bitterly ashamed - until the episode of that letter shook the last remnants of my faith. I'm afraid I was bitter about it; perhaps, now, you'll understand why I wouldn't even listen to an explanation. I felt I couldn't bear more lies. Only recently I heard the truth. I know now that it was all due to an error of Molly's. It's a bit late for an apology, but please accept it if you can." "The whole thing was a terrible mistake, but all the same I should have told Matron at the interview. I was too frightened of her. I was just speechless," said Julia. "That's easy enough to understand." David's expression in the half light was sympathetic and his eyes smiled into hers. "From the very first time we met I sensed there was something different about you. I wanted so much to believe in you, but it was as if fate was deliberately making it difficult for me; it was as if, in you, I had met a challenge to the trust I had completely lost. When I heard the truth from Christine it was like a reprieve. I knew then that I hadn't been wrong, that, after all, you were all I had hoped and believed. It may sound absurd and you may not understand how much that means to me. . . ." For a second he paused and now his tone was less assured

and his words little above a whisper. "If only I'd met you five years ago, everything might have been different." David's words had stirred Julia beyond belief and she longed to throw discretion to the winds; to pour out her heart an assure him he could trust and believe in her to the end of time. The tumult of her feelings was hidden behind a mask of calm serenity, and when she spoke her voice was cool and wholly dispassionate. "I'm deeply grateful to have your confidence." Such conventional words entirely belied the tumult of her thoughts and by half turning her head she was able to conceal the tears which veiled her eyes. So Simone Recamier meant nothing to him after all. But Molly had been right. There was no place for love in David's heart, and neither she nor any other girl would ever mean more to him than a pleasant diversion.

CHAPTER X THE morning of Joan's wedding had broken bright and clear with that scent of spring in the air which made it perfect for such an occasion. The London streets had been bathed in soft sunshine and the uninspiring atmosphere of the registrar's office had been brightened by bowls of tulips and golden daffodils, giving it an air of unwonted gaiety. It had all seemed to Julia strange and alien, and she could still scarcely believe that following such a brief and formal ceremony, her uncle and Joan were really married, but of one thing she had little doubt and that was of .their complete happiness. Each day following her engagement brought Joan an added serenity, and that morning, in a dove-grey suit with a spray of orchids pinned at her shoulder, she had made a bride of whom any man might be proud. The wedding luncheon at which she and David had been the only guests was a festive event which Julia would never forget, and although tears had misted her eyes when she had bidden the newly married couple good-bye at the air terminal, they had been tears of sheer joy. Julia was thankful that within a few hours of the honeymoon couple's departure she herself would be starting off for her brief visit to France. Her suitcase was already packed. She had only to change from her wedding outfit into her travelling clothes, then there would just be time to slip down to the X-Ray department and see Molly before leaving for the first stage of her journey. With a final glance round her hospital bedroom, she picked up her suitcase, then carefully closed her door. On the threshold she paused for a moment and almost unconsciously her eyes turned towards that room across the corridor; the door was firmly closed; it was not, as it had so often been, even ajar. ... It seemed strange that Joan would never occupy it again, that it was now denuded of all those oddments which had made it so personal - the photo which had had such a prominent position on the chest. . . . Julia turned deliberately

away and walked towards the lift. That and every other reminder of Antonia was now packed safely away. Only a memory would remain, and, thanks to David, for Joan, a sweet and happy memory which nothing now could ever despoil. "You are lucky to be going off to Paris," sighed Molly. "I wish I were coming with you. I feel I need a holiday. Spring weather always makes me restless." "If only you could come with me, it would be marvellous." Julia laid her handbag oil the desk. "I hate the idea of flying alone. It wasn't so bad that time David was with me, but I'm beginning to wish I'd booked by boat now." "Nonsense! You'll be all right. I suppose David hasn't mentioned anything about going to Paris this week-end?" "Good gracious, no. Why should he?" "No reason that I know," Molly affirmed, "... unless of course he wanted your company, or, alternatively, a glimpse of his Parisian lady friend," she concluded with a teasing laugh. "Molly - I've been meaning to tell you." Julia spoke with some diffidence. "We were wrong about Mademoiselle Recamier. David explained to me a few days ago. She is only an acquaintance of his; a nurse who has attended patients for him and whom he's known for years." "Exit romance! What a pity, and we had the whole thing so nicely taped!" Molly paused to give the matter further thought. "Then why, I wonder, is he always chasing across to Paris?" "I imagine it's because he's concerned with the patient she's attending."

"Oh, I see. How dull!" Molly was obviously disappointed at the prosaic reason. "I only hope this hasn't made you get all het up about David again. The Recamier myth at least put a temporary damper on your enthusiasm. Now you've found out that he's still heart-whole, I suppose you'll continue to cherish your secret passion. It's crazy, Julia; you must shake yourself out of it." "I have," Julia responded briefly, then, realizing that Molly was taken aback by her answer, felt compelled to enlarge upon her admission. "I know now that you were right. I was knocking my head against a brick wall. Since his marriage which ended so disastrously, David has no confidence nor trust in any girl.' Molly placed her hand affectionately on Julia's shoulder. "Cheer up, darling, don't be so downcast about it, I didn't mean to probe. I'm fond of you and I want to help." As Julia remained silent she went on in coaxing tones, "I still don't know what's made you change so suddenly about David, but I'm glad you realize it's better that way." "Yes, I suppose it's as well that I've came to my senses. I expect nothing from David, nothing whatever," she repeated firmly. "I know now that although he appreciates my friendship and enjoys my company, he'll never permit himself to go beyond that." A note of bitterness, quite foreign to Julia's nature, had crept into her voice. "You're the only friend I have and that's why I don't mind confessing to you that from the first moment we met, I fell in love with him, deeply and sincerely. No one will ever take his place; no one, ever!" "Julia!" The single word expressed all Molly's shocked surprise, then controlling her reactions she went on more soberly, "I suppose I've realized you were serious all along, although I've tried to make light of it That's why I've kept on warning you, although sometimes I thought that he was more than usually interested in you from the first." Molly instilled a note of encouragement into her voice. "It's

silly to get despondent about things. After all, you've only known David for a few months. Why lose heart? Anything might happen; jealousy sometimes stirs up quite a few latent emotions in a man, or, alternatively, they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder...She broke off abruptly, then warming to her argument continued, "There is something in that, Julia. Why not try it?" A tremulous smile curved Julia's lips. It was impossible not to be moved by Molly's obvious concern. "Jealousy didn't work. At one time David believed I cared for Bill. At first, I thought he minded, then later ... oh, well, it seemed silly, so I told David the truth, that Bill and I were nothing whatever to one another." "You shouldn't have done that. You didn't give yourself a chance. What about the absence stunt? Have you tried that?" "Of course I haven't." Julia was now laughing. Molly's words had, at least, had the effect of rousing her from her despondency. "Forget it. I've told you the whole thing is finished. I've put all thoughts of David out of my head. It's what you've always wanted and you should be glad, instead of which you're now trying to encourage me to go on." "I didn't realize how very much it mattered to you until now; if I had, perhaps my advice would have been different," Molly demurred. Julia glanced at her watch, then rose to her feet. "I really ought to be going. I mustn't be late at the air terminal and I may have to wait for a bus." "It's a holiday. Why not treat yourself to a taxi?" Slipping her arm through Julia's, Molly accompanied her to the door, then, after a further brief exchange of words, they bade one another an affectionate good-bye.

Despite Julia's doubts, once she had joined with the other travellers boarding the plane, her fears completely vanished and she was actually able to enjoy the short trip across the Channel. Although England had now become her real home, France could never lose its charm for Julia, and the moment the plane touched down at Le Bourget, her sense, of confidence was fully restored. The glimpses of the countryside which flashed by the windows of the bus conveying her to the centre of Paris, showed just those touches of local colour which made it all so familiar to her. The blue-smocked workmen, the cobbled roads, the huge ugly advertisements, the oddshaped little cottages with clumps of spring flowers already bringing a touch of colour to the ragged gardens, were all a part of the country she loved. Although tired from the day's excitement, she felt her spirits rising as she neared her destination, and she had a whole four days ahead of her before she need return. She only feared they would pass too quickly in the quiet, contemplative atmosphere of the Convent, yet she asked for nothing more than that serenity; the peace and contentment she knew she would find in the company of the Reverend Mother and the Sisters. Her last visit had been marred by her pricking conscience and the knowledge that she had no right to share her troubles; this time she came, if not with happiness, with a calm sense of resignation. The streets of Paris were bathed in afternoon sunshine, and, unlike that earlier visit, there was now real warmth in the golden rays as they caressed her cheek and penetrated through the thin material of her jacket The small tables outside the cafes were thronged with people, sipping their glasses of aperitif or drinking coffee while they chatted or alternatively sat hidden behind their newspapers. There was something satisfying in the familiar sights and sounds of the city, and as Julia pushed her way through the crowds descending the steps to the Metro all feeling of fatigue left her.

Her welcome at St Clare's was just as she had expected. She knew it could never change. At heart she was English, yet as she became absorbed once more into the cloistered life of the Convent, she felt that this surely was her spiritual home. She slept more deeply and peacefully than she had slept for weeks, then awoke to another day of spring sunshine which, filtering through her window, enveloped the small room in a soft glow. It was nice to feel that with the long day ahead of her, there was no need for hurry; to be able to lie in bed with no fear of being late on the ward. Revelling in the sheer luxury of the moment, Julia lay back against her pillows gazing idly through the window through which she could see a bough of an almond tree heavy with blossom against the square of blue sky. Later she dressed and wandered round the garden, revisiting all the old haunts of her childhood; the brook which ran through one end of the walled garden, the orchard and the cloisters with their chipped masonry and worn flagstones. She knew it all so well; knew it and loved it, and felt no desire whatever to spend one hour of her holiday beyond its precincts. There she could find all the relaxation she desired, yet by virtue of her inactivity, time appeared to be speeding on wings, and as she rested on a garden seat, her book unheeded on her lap, she realized with some dismay that two precious days had already passed. A feeling akin to fear held her in its grip. She knew that when the moment came; and she must forsake this refuge, to pick up once more the threads of her life at St. Anne's, she would be filled with a nameless dread; the life she had once enjoyed now stretched before her as a desert, empty and void. She would no longer be working on Bellamy Ward with David's encouraging smile to spur her to further effort; she could no longer hope for a brief exchange of words as he passed through the ward, and instinctively she knew that he would hesitate to seek her company at other times. Stooping to retrieve her book which had slipped to the ground as she rose to her feet, Julia tucked it under her arm and strolled slowly

across the lawn towards the grey stone chapel which had once formed part of the original structure. Creeper now clung to its outer walls, but the Gothic arch which surmounted the doorway retained much of its original carving. The heavily studded door hung half open and from where she stood, Julia could see the shaft of sunlight through the stained glass window behind the altar dappling the dim interior with splashes of brilliant colour. She could remember how, as a child, she had always loved that little chapel. She would never forget the smell of incense mingled with the damp exhalation which still clung to the ancient stone walls. Julia sank down on the worn seat of the porch. She had so often sat there and dreamed; dreamed of that world outside, of the country of her birth, of her parents whom she could scarcely remember. Here she had woven in her imagination wonderful stories of success and achievement, and through the veil of her dreams she had seen David and felt that with him she could find the fulfilment of all she most desired.

As David approached, she watched him draw nearer with no true sense of reality. Even when he spoke her name it seemed it must be the whisper of the wind in the trees; only when his shadow fell across her, shutting out the light of the sun, Julia realized his presence. "Julia, I've startled you. I'm 'sorry - one of the nuns - they told me I'd find you somewhere in the garden...." He broke off with obvious concern as he became aware of Julia's tensed attitude; then as she appeared to relax, he went on quickly, "I suppose I should have let her announce my arrival in the correct manner. I'm afraid I've intruded - please forgive me." "Of course. ... I ... I certainly wasn't expecting you." The sound of her own voice helped Julia to regain her composure and she was

able to speak with comparative ease. "I didn't even know you were in Paris. How long have you been here? When did you arrive?" "I flew over this morning. I hadn't intended coming. I only made up my mind last night." Julia was surprised how unsteady her knees felt when she rose to her feet and she was glad to rest her hand against the stone pillar of the portico for support. She could scarcely define her own feelings. A sense of happiness filled her as it always did in David's presence, but underlying that joy lay a sense of guilt as if she were trespassing in some forbidden garden. Then suddenly she had no further concern with her own feelings. She had never seen David's face so drawn, nor that expression of anxiety in his eyes. his natural air of confidence had entirely deserted him. "David, you look worried. What on earth is the matter?" Her question was involuntary. It had sprung unbidden to her lips, and, quite unconsciously, she had drawn closer until she stood directly before him, her face lifted enquiringly and anxiously to his. "I had to see you - immediately. I want to talk to you, somewhere quietly. Tell me, where can we go?" He glanced round him as if seeking some suitable place, then, obviously discarding the wide spaces of lawn and shrubbery, went on, "I came by taxi. It's waiting outside. Can you come with me? We'll find some spot where we'll be undisturbed." "Of course I can come. I'll get a coat and hat. I must also find the Reverend Mother and tell her I'll be going out. I won't be a moment. Wait here for me, will you?" Julia was far too anxious to know what was troubling David to waste a moment and she was soon back, suitably clad for the street, and walking by his side down the long drive towards the entrance

gate of St. Clare's. At first they drove in silence, then David turned towards her. "Where shall we go? You tell the man; somewhere out of Paris - somewhere quiet." "What about driving to the Bois? It's a pleasant run from here." As he nodded assent, Julia pulled back the dividing window and instructed the river, then sat back again beside David. Unable to curb her curiosity, she forced herself to make the first move. "You said you had to speak to me. Won't you tell me what's troubling you?" Deliberately he turned in his seat until he faced her. "I had to go over to the flat last night. Christine had overlooked an important letter. I remained and had coffee with her - and, of course, Molly. I still can't recall how the conversation started, but they both began to speak of you. I suppose it was Molly, really, who did most of the talking, hit she told me something about you which shocked me profoundly - I tried to forget it I told myself that it was not my business, but it didn't seem to have any effect." He paused and an ironical smile twisted his lips. "I tried to put the matter from my mind with little success; even sleeping on it didn't seem to help, so I took the first available plane this morning - and here I am." "But I don't understand. What did Molly tell you?" "It shouldn't be difficult for you to guess." Suddenly he leaned closer and with his fingers under her chin he turned her face towards him and looked deeply into her eyes. "Julia, you can't do it. I won't let you! I've been a fool. I've deliberately closed my eyes to all you have meant to me. I've steadfastly refused to recognize my own emotions." Julia failed to grasp the import of his avowal. She was only aware of the touch of his hand and the unconcealed anxiety in his expression.

It was difficult to frame any words and when she spoke her voice was little above a whisper. "What has Molly told you?" "That you may decide not to return to England. That you might stay at St. Clare's, that you might take vows and remain behind those grey walls for the rest of your life!" His arm slipped round her shoulder and as he spoke he drew her closer to him, imprisoning her as if he would never let her go. "You mustn't do it, Julia. I won't let you. Don't you see how much I need you? Julia, I love you. Tell me you'll come back with me; tell me you'll never leave me again?" Julia rested unresistingly in his arms as, with an infinite tenderness, he ran his fingers through her hair and touched her eyes with a gentle kiss, then with growing passion pressed his lips to hers in an ardent embrace. Her arms crept up to encircle his neck, and although her lashes lay wet against her cheeks, she was shedding tears of sheer joy. As she felt the clasp of his arms round her, her heart beat in unison with his and she longed for this ecstatic moment to endure forever. The taxi might have been travelling north, south, east or west, but both were oblivious to either time or distance. Julia could scarcely fathom what had happened, what miracle had brought her into David's arms. In a flash of revelation she saw the whole pattern of events. Molly must have deliberately made up that fantastic story. Her Irish blarney had carried the day. Hadn't she once asserted that even miracles needed some backing and hadn't she also quoted that absence made the heart grow fonder? With that uncanny Irish instinct of hers Molly had been right. She, alone, had been responsible for breaking down David's armour of reserve, bringing to them both this glorious fulfilment. "It's strange to think how utterly blind I've been." David looked down at Julia as her head rested against his shoulder. "I'd made up my mind that I'd never allow myself to love any girl again. I wasn't

too pleased when I imagined you cared for Bill Trent, but even then I don't think I'd realized what losing you would mean - besides, I was never sure about it, and then, when you denied it, I knew I was infinitely relieved, but even then I couldn't - or perhaps I refused to see that it was because I loved you so deeply myself." The taximan, tired of driving in circles, had glanced round several times for instructions. Apparently his fares were unaware of the miles they were traversing and the meter which was rapidly ticking up. With a shrug of resignation he had turned back again to the wheel and doggedly driven on, but when his watch showed noon, the proper time for any respectable man's dejeuner, he began to feel restless, and turning, made his way back towards the city. Outside a small and unpretentious little restaurant, he braked to a standstill; the suggestion was too obvious to ignore and David and Julia had little option but to alight. The outrageously generous tip which David handed to the driver caused him to beam with pleasure; then, gripping their hands in turn and shaking them enthusiastically, he congratulated them in voluble French. Julia smiled, then looked enquiringly at David. "As he dropped us here I presume it's lunch time." "Frankly I'd quite forgotten about food, but now I come to think of it, it's a good idea." Seated in the little outside verandah, half concealed from the road by tall evergreens, they lingered over their meal. It might have been excellent or indifferent, but neither of them appeared to notice what the waiter served them. They spoke little until coffee and liqueurs were set before them, but there was a pervading happiness even in their silence. "Julia, I'm not living in a fool's paradise, am I? You know, you haven't answered me. You will give up all idea of joining the

Sisterhood, won't you? You'll marry me just as soon as it can be arranged?" "I never had the slightest intention of either taking vows or even remaining on at St. Clare's. I was returning to St. Anne's on Wednesday and continuing the career which I'd planned." There was a provocative smile at the corners of Julia's lips as she made the assertion. "So Molly made a mistake. She got the whole thing wrong?" There was a note of incredulity in David's voice, but the veiled mirth in Julia's eyes gave him his answer. "You mean she made the whole thing up?" For a moment he tried to digest the information, then suddenly realizing the truth, he threw back his head and laughed unrestrainedly. Julia had never seen David appear so young and carefree. The strained expression of the morning had completely vanished and there was a new buoyancy about his whole demeanour. It seemed as if, during the last brief hour, years had dropped from his shoulders and the sprinkle of grey at his temples appeared oddly out of place. "I'm glad you aren't angry. Of course, I didn't know anything about it, but Molly had my confidence. She knew I cared for you and I had admitted to her that I didn't believe you'd ever allow yourself to fall in love again," "Angry? Why, I owe her more than I can ever repay." David spoke with deep feeling as he linked his hand in Julia's and gently pressed her fingers. "Darling, I'm looking at you; at that sweet, remote expression of yours and wondering if it can really be true." He paused for a moment, then went on teasingly, "You know, you'll have to come back with me to-morrow. I'm not leaving you ever again."

"Whenever you say, but now you're over here you'll want to visit your little protegee, won't you?" "I'm worried about the child," David admitted. "I shall certainly not leave without seeing her and having a word with Simone. What I feared has happened. Now that Francoise needs no further medical attention, Simone is fretting to get back to her proper work. The child really needs a kind home now. Shortly she'll require an infant school, but as yet, she's little more than a baby. I want her to have the love and care which every child has a right to. Something to take the place of the parents she has never known." "Why not take her to Mother Clementine? Surely that's the obvious solution?" "Julia! You mean that, you think she'd take her? What a load that would be off my mind. Oh, Julia, what a wonderful idea!" "I know she'll take her; she will be happy there, David. As happy as I was. She'll have all the love in the world and three parents; Mother Clementine, you and I." Julia had made no rash promise. Later that afternoon, as they watched the Reverend Mother take the crippled child in her arms, her own eyes misted and she knew by David's expression that his confidence and gratitude knew no bounds. Mother Clementine's tender smile and the love which shone in her eyes as she held the little girl in her arms, the snow-white coif framing the soft oval of her face and the folds of her habit draping her tall, dignified figure, was a picture which neither Julia nor David would readily forget. Now, as the shadows lengthened and the sun was ready to dip behind the tall buildings of the city, David and Julia, hand in hand, wandered through the streets. Almost unconsciously Julia led him towards Notre Dame, and now as they stood before the imposing

edifice Julia was aware of a surge of joy and gratitude which filled her whole being. The great cathedral had brought them together and now she had come to offer it thanks and homage. "It's beautiful." Julia's words were scarcely above a whisper. "It's certainly imposing, almost awe-inspiring, but I don't think it holds a candle to St. Paul's." Julia looked up at her companion, her grey-green eyes dancing with merriment. "You said almost the same thing last time - you remember, the very first time we met." "Julia! - it wasn't you, it couldn't have been!" he exclaimed in obvious astonishment, then broke into laughter. "By Jove! I remember it now quite clearly - and on the train when you said we'd met before - and to think I didn't recognize you! It seems unbelievable; that we should have first met here, almost on this very spot; then you came to St. Anne's; why, Julia, it's as if our future together had been predestined." In the middle of teeming crowds on the square Julia lifted her face for his kiss. With that sympathy which is the heritage of every Frenchman, the passers-by merely smiled, sharing in the happiness of that moment of glorious abandon. Only two Englishwomen raised their eyebrows in disapproval and the elder woman pursed her lips disdainfully. "These French! They really have no restraint; just fancy embracing right in front of Notre Dame!"