Part 7 (1/2)
A little smile curled the corners of Desire's lips. He did not see it because she had turned to the fire again and, with that deliberate unself-consciousness which characterized her, was proceeding to unpin and dry her hair. Spence had not seen it undone before and was astonished at its length and l.u.s.tre. The girl shook it as a young colt shakes its mane, spreading it out to the blaze upon her hands.
”I know what you mean, though,” admitted Spence, ”there is nothing like the fascination of the unknown. It very nearly did for me.”
Desire looked up long enough to allow her slanting brows to ask their eternal question.
”Too much inside, not enough outside,” he answered. ”I ought to have made myself a man first and a student afterward. Then I might have been out in the rain you.”
She considered this, as she considered most things, gravely. Then met it in her downright way.
”There's nothing very wrong with you, is there? Nothing but what can be put right.”
”No.”
”Well then, you can begin again. And begin properly.”
”I am thirty-five.”
”In that case you have no time to waste.”
It was a thoroughly sensible remark. But somehow the professor did not like it. After all, thirty-five is not so terribly old. He decided to change the subject. But there was no immediate hurry. It was pleasant to lie there in the firelight watching this enigma of girl-hood dry her hair. Perhaps she would notice his silence and ask him what he was thinking about.
”You really ought to offer me a penny for my thoughts,” he observed plaintively.
”Oh, were you thinking? So was I.”
”I'll give you a penny for yours!”
Desire shook her head.
”No? Then I'll give you mine for nothing. I was thinking what a pity it is that you are only an amateur nurse.”
”I hate nursing.”
”How unwomanly! Lots of women hate it--but few admit it. However, it wasn't a nurse's duties I was thinking of, but a patient's privileges.
You see, if you were a professional nurse I could call you 'Nurse Desire.'”
”Do you mean that you want to call me by my first name?”
”Since you put it more bluntly than I should dare to,--yes. It is a charming name. But perhaps--”
”Oh, you may use it if you like,” said the owner of the name indifferently. ”It sounds more natural. I am not accustomed to 'Miss Fair.'”
This ought to have been satisfactory. But it wasn't. And after he had led up to it so tactfully, too! Not for the first time did it occur to our psychologist that tact was wasted upon this downright young person.
He decided not to be tactful any longer.
”I'm getting well so rapidly,” he said, ”that I shall have to admit it soon.”
The girl nodded.
”Are you glad?”