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Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"Hilda Wade, a Woman with Tenacity of Purpose"


"You know, Ivor, I never read those DREADFUL things in the papers. _I_
read the Society news, and Our Social Diary, and columns that are headed
'Mainly About People.' I don't care for anything but the Morning Post
and the World and Truth. I hate horrors.... But it's a blessing to think
it's only the natives."
"Plenty of Europeans, too, bless your heart," the Captain thundered
out unfeelingly. "Why, last time I was in port, a nurse died at the
hospital."
"Oh, only a nurse--" Lady Meadowcroft began, and then coloured up
deeply, with a side glance at Hilda.
"And lots besides nurses," the Captain continued, positively delighted
at the terror he was inspiring. "Pucka Englishmen and Englishwomen. Bad
business this plague, Dr. Cumberledge! Catches particularly those who
are most afraid of it."
"But it's only in Bombay?" Lady Meadowcroft cried, clutching at the
last straw. I could see she was registering a mental determination to go
straight up-country the moment she landed.
"Not a bit of it!" the Captain answered, with provoking cheerfulness.
"Rampaging about like a roaring lion all over India!"
Lady Meadowcroft's thumb must have suffered severely.


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