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Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"Hilda Wade, a Woman with Tenacity of Purpose"


You are losing your nerve--which is fatal in a nurse. Only the other day
you let fall and broke a basin at a most critical moment; and now, you
scream aloud on a trifling apprehension." He paused and glanced around
him. "Mr. Callaghan," he said, turning to our tall, red-haired Irish
student, "YOUR blood is good normal, and YOU are not hysterical." He
selected another needle with studious care. "Give me your finger."
As he picked out the needle, I saw Hilda lean forward again, alert
and watchful, eyeing him with a piercing glance; but, after a second's
consideration, she seemed to satisfy herself, and fell back without a
word. I gathered that she was ready to interfere, had occasion demanded.
But occasion did not demand; and she held her peace quietly.
The rest of the examination proceeded without a hitch. For a minute or
two, it is true, I fancied that Sebastian betrayed a certain suppressed
agitation--a trifling lack of his accustomed perspicuity and his
luminous exposition. But, after meandering for a while through a few
vague sentences, he soon recovered his wonted calm; and as he went on
with his demonstration, throwing himself eagerly into the case, his
usual scientific enthusiasm came back to him undiminished.


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