The Primrose Ring by Ruth Sawyer


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Page 22

He smiled, almost foolishly. "I thought they--it--looked rather pretty
and--spring-like," he began, by way of explanation. His teeth ground
together angrily; he sounded absurd, and he knew it. Furthermore, it
was inexcusable of her to corner him in this fashion.

Now Margaret MacLean knew well enough that he would never have
discovered the prettiness of anything by himself--not in a century of
springtimes, and she sensed the truth.

"Did she decorate you?" she inquired, with an irritating little curl of
her lips. The Senior Surgeon's self-confessed blush lent speed to her
tongue. "I think I might be privileged to ask what it was for. You
see, I presented the flowers to the board meeting. Was it for
self-sacrifice?" Her eyes challenged his.

"You are capable of talking more nonsense and being more impertinent
than any nurse I have ever known. May I pass?" His eyes returned her
challenge, blazing.

But she never moved; the mind-string once broken, there seemed to be no
limit to the thoughts that could come tumbling off the end of her
tongue. Her eyes went back to the flower in his coat.

"Perhaps you would like to know that I bought those this morning
because they seemed the very breath of spring itself--a bit of promise
and gladness. I thought they would keep the day going right."

"Well, they have--for me." And the Senior Surgeon could not resist a
look of triumph.

"The trustees"--she drew in a quick breath and put out a steadying hand
on the banisters--"you mean--they have given up the incurable ward?"

He nodded. His voice took on a more genial tone. He felt he could
generously afford to be pleasant and patient toward the one who had not
succeeded. "It was something that was bound to happen sooner or later.
Can't you see that yourself? But I am sorry, very sorry for you."

Suddenly, and for the first time in their long sojourn together in
Saint Margaret's, he became wholly conscious of the girl before him.
He realized that Margaret MacLean had grown into a vital and vitalizing
personality--a force with which those who came in contact would have to
reckon. She stood before him now, frozen into a gray, accusing figure.

"Are you ill?" he found himself asking.

"No."

He shifted his weight uneasily to the other foot. "Is there anything
you want?"

Her face softened into the little-girl look. Her eyes brimmed with a
sadness past remedy. "What a funny question from you--you, who have
taken from me the only thing I ever let myself want--the love and
dependence of those children. Success, and having whatever you want,
are such common things with you, that you must count them very cheap;
but you can't judge what they mean to others--or what they may cost
them."

"As I said before, I am sorry, very sorry you have lost your position
here; but you have no one but yourself to blame for that. I should
have been very glad to have you remain in the new surgical ward; you
are one of the best operative nurses I ever had." He added this in all
justice to her; and to mitigate, if he could, his own feeling of
discomfort.

Margaret MacLean smiled grimly. "Thank you. I was not referring to
the loss of my position, however; that matters very little."

"It should matter." The voice of the Senior Surgeon became instantly
professional. "Every nurse should put her work, satisfactorily and
scientifically executed, before everything else. That is where you are
radically weak. Let me remind you that it is your sole business to
look after the physical betterment of your patients--nothing else; and
the sooner you give up all this sentimental, fanciful nonsense the
sooner you will succeed."

"You are wrong. I should never succeed that way--never. Some cases
may need only the bodily care--maybe; but you are a very poor doctor,
after all, if you think that is all that children need--or half the
grown-ups. There are more people ailing with mind-sickness and
heart-sickness, as well as body-sickness, than the world would guess,
and you've just got to nurse the whole of them. You will succeed,
whether you ever find this out or not; but you will miss a great deal
out of your life."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 28th Oct 2025, 6:23