"A
most intelligent girl, Cumberledge," he remarked to me with a rare burst
of approval--for the Professor was always critical--after she had been
at work for some weeks at St. Nathaniel's. "I am glad you introduced
her here. A nurse with brains is such a valuable accessory--unless, of
course, she takes to THINKING. But Nurse Wade never THINKS; she is a
useful instrument--does what she's told, and carries out one's orders
implicitly."
"She knows enough to know when she doesn't know," I answered, "which is
really the rarest kind of knowledge."
"Unrecorded among young doctors!" the Professor retorted, with his
sardonic smile. "They think they understand the human body from top to
toe, when, in reality--well, they might do the measles!"
Early in January, I was invited again to lunch with the Le Geyts. Hilda
Wade was invited, too. The moment we entered the house, we were both of
us aware that some grim change had come over it. Le Geyt met us in the
hall, in his old genial style, it is true; but still with a certain
reserve, a curious veiled timidity which we had not known in him.
Big and good-humoured as he was, with kindly eyes beneath the shaggy
eyebrows, he seemed strangely subdued now; the boyish buoyancy had gone
out of him.
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