“I’ll make her.”
“I don’t believe it.” She took the note and went out. I rang the bell and in a little while Miss Gage came in.
“What’s the matter?”
“I just wanted to talk to you. Don’t you think Miss Barkley ought to go off night duty for a while? She looks awfully tired. Why does she stay on so long?”
Miss Gage looked at me.
“I’m a friend of yours,” she said. “You don’t have to talk to me like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be silly. Was that all you wanted?”
“Do you want a vermouth?”
“All right. Then I have to go.” She got out the bottle from the armoire and brought a glass.
“You take the glass,” I said. “I’ll drink out of the bottle.”
“Here’s to you,” said Miss Gage.
“What did Van Campen say about me sleeping late in the mornings?”
“She just jawed about it. She calls you our privileged patient.”
“To hell with her.”
“She isn’t mean,” Miss Gage said. “She’s just old and cranky. She never liked you.”
“No.”
“Well, I do. And I’m your friend. Don’t forget that.”
“You’re awfully damned nice.”
“No. I know who you think is nice. But I’m your friend. How does your leg feel?”
“Fine.”
“I’ll bring some cold mineral water to pour over it. It must itch under the cast. It’s hot outside.”
“You’re awful nice.”
“Does it itch much?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“I’ll fix those sandbags better.” She leaned over. “I’m your friend.”
“I know you are.”
“No you don’t. But you will some day.”
Catherine Barkley took three nights off night duty and then she came back on again. It was as though we met again after each of us had been away on a long journey.