Wilson. I had an idea that I had said to her, three months before, that if Gentleman came I would kill him. I had meant it, then. Now the thought of seeing his face was so unexpected, it made me sick.
Nurse Spiller saw me hesitate. ''Come on,'' she said, ''if you are coming! Don''t mind your hair.''—I had put my hand to my head. ''I''m sure, the madder he knows you to be, the better. Saves disappointment, don''t it?'' She glanced at Nurse Bacon. Then: ''Come on!''
she said again; and I gave a twitch, then stumbled after her into the passage and down the stairs.
It was a Wednesday—that was luck, though I did not know it yet, for on Wednesdays Dr Christie and Dr Graves went off in their coach to drum up new lady lunatics, and the house was quiet. Some nurses, and one or two men, were standing about in the hall, taking breaths from the open door; one of the men held a cigarette and, when he saw Nurse Spiller, he hid it. They did not look at me, however, and I hardly looked at them. I was thinking of what was to come, and feeling sicker and stranger by the second.
''In here,'' said Nurse Spiller, jerking her head towards the door of the drawing-room. Then she caught my arm and pulled me to her. And you remember: none of your fibs. The pads are nice and cool, on a day like this. Ain''t been used in a while. My word''s as good as a man''s, while the doctors are away. You hear me?''