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"I'm sorry, Jim. I should have guessed." Her throat constricted. He was patently so unhappy, she couldn't bear it. Every instinct was to put her arms around him to comfort him, but she knew that in the circumstances this was the last thing she must do.

"I took good care that you shouldn't guess," he said. "You were such a career woman. I was scared it might put you off. So I accepted friendship - and hoped one day it would turn into something else. The joke's on me that it didn't come off. Now—I won't hang around you any more."

She laid a hand impulsively on his arm, but it was his turn to shake it off. "Don't look so worried." His voice shook. "I'm not going to do anything foolish. No emotional appeals or anything like that. At all costs I must keep my self-respect." He made a lopsided effort at his usual grin. "Serves me right for getting ideas above my station - as His Nibs pointed out."

"He never said anything like that, Jim?" In spite of her present misery, she jumped at that name.

"Not in so many words, maybe, but that was the message. I've really known it all along, though I'm sure he's convinced I'm the year's prize clot."

"But I thought he was backing you for the job?"

"I allowed myself to think so, too, for a time. It appears I've been mistaken in that - as in other things." He looked down at her sadly. "It's time I adjusted to the facts. I've been living in a fool's paradise long enough."

"I'd give anything, Jim -" she started to say, but he put a finger to her lips.

"No, don't say anything, Duchess. Please. You'll only try to be kind. That's the one thing I don't think I could take right now." He opened the door and made a last effort at the old camaraderie. "Now, for Pete's sake, will you get out of here before I disgrace myself by breaking down on your shoulder? Lesley" - and when she turned to look at him again - "don't reproach yourself for any of it. It was all my own fault. If I had it to do again I wouldn't alter a thing - not even if I knew from the start that it was all going to end up like this."

He closed the door behind her and threw himself into the armchair. Every instinct had been to shut the door on his doubts; to go on indulging in dreams and hope. If there had been any remnants of that, the last half hour had put paid to them. He'd brought it all on himself. He took out his dreams and knew them for what they were, then set about killing them one by one.

The
days that followed were a grey limbo for Lesley. She avoided the sitting-room as much as possible. She buried herself in work as the only salvation for the sick sense of guilt she had over Jim. For the life of her she couldn't see how she could have acted differently, but this didn't seem to exonerate her from responsibility in her own eyes. She must make things as easy as possible for him now. She kept out of his way. He, too, seemed to prefer it like this. For the next few weeks they saw very little of each other.

As for the gossip, she decided to ignore it. After all, she had done nothing for which she need feel ashamed - nothing, that is, except be blind to the feelings and aspirations of a friend. But where the others were concerned there was no reason why she shouldn't hold up her head.

When no one else was around, Harry Dayborough showed a secret sort of gloating. Sister Bishop seemed vigilant. Lesley wasn't quite sure how much she knew, or indeed cared, about recent developments.

As for Sir Charles - she came to the blank wall in her mind. He was distant, correct, cool. There was nothing left but to go on trying to meet his requirements.

One day in mid-December she was brought up with a jolt. It was her day for the rural clinic. Sir Charles had not yet arrived for the morning ward round. Lesley had gone into the side room with her blood tray to get at least Mrs. Hopkins's test out of the way while she was waiting.

"You'll watch what you're doing this time, Doctor, won't you?" The woman was anxiously scanning Lesley's face.

"Whatever do you mean?" she replied with a smile, her hands busy stripping the casing from the disposable sterile syringe.

"I've been that worried," the woman replied, "waiting for the yellow colour to appear."

Lesley looked at her in astonishment. "How did you know about that?"

"You can't keep a thing like that quiet in here, Doctor. The ward maids were buzzing with it just after it happened. Besides, I heard all the fuss - Sister phoning the Professor. You don't usually get him in the afternoon unless it's something serious, now do you?"

Lesley stared at the woman. "Sir Charles was called?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor. I thought you knew. I heard Sister telling him all about it. You can't help overhearing things in this side room," she said apologetically.

Lesley followed her eyes to the small spy-window, the one which gave the duty desk a view of this room.

"It was him got in touch with Dr. Ross. They had a long confab with some pal of his in London. The new drug seems to have done the trick with you, Doctor." She was still looking for reassurance at Lesley's face. "I would hate to think you had caught it from me. You've all been so good to me, even the Professor. He couldn't have been nicer. Seems to have taken such an interest in me since that day. I thought he would be annoyed. He was so upset about you - had the place in a right tizzy. Gave that Dr. Dayborough a dressing down for not helping you out a bit more. I was taken aback, I can tell you. I didn't think he had it in him to get quite so steamed up about anything. He fair thinks the world of you, Doctor. Am I talking too much?" She caught sight of Lesley's expression. "But you can see why I'm worried every time you take that blood sample. You'll be careful not to get it in your mouth again?"

"I'll be careful." Lesley made an effort to smile. "I'm sorry you've been so worried."

She took the sample into the test room and sat down heavily on the high lab stool. Her legs were shaking. What Mrs. Hopkins had told her shattered her hard-won self-composure.

Why should she feel so touched by it? Of course he would be concerned. That was what he was like. Wasn't it one of the things everyone said about him? Why else was he worshipped by staff, students, ward-maids? ("You'd only be kind. That's the one thing I couldn't take right now.") It was what Jim had said. Now she knew what he'd meant. The thought of Sir Charles Hope-Moncrieff leaving no stone unturned for her churned her up.

She put her forehead down on the hard lab bench and grimly held back the tears.

"Doctor Leigh seems a little off colour, Sister." Sir Charles hesitated in the duty room as though he might almost have said too much.

"You're not still thinking of the jaundice, are you, Sir Charles?" Angela Bishop, not for the first time, thought what a pity it was some men were so blind.

"I haven't noticed any icterus, though she still looks paler than she did." He seemed to be having difficulty choosing his next words. "I was wondering, Sister, whether you might have noticed anything else - loss of appetite, any seediness -" he hesitated again. Angela knew it wasn't a word he would normally have used. "She seems to be thinner if anything, too."

"Personally, I think it's mainly due to overwork - and worry." Since he was gazing out of the window Angela judged it safe to study his profile. "Things haven't been exactly pleasant for her around here in recent weeks."

"You mean the affair with young Graham? Why should that occasion her worry?" The eyes were averted, still staring out of the window. "It is their own business, after all."

Angela thought she saw a slight tightening of the muscles of his left cheek. "Someone has obviously made it theirs to tell you." (So Minnie Staines was right. Harry had told him about that.)

He glanced at her sharply. She could have sworn that the eyes held pain.

"You're speaking in riddles, Sister."

"Chiefs aren't told everything," she said carefully. "What they are is generally edited for their special consumption. Perhaps, sometimes, they'd do well to consider why."

"We've known each other a long time, Sister. If you're trying to tell me something I'd appreciate you being specific."

"If you don't know already, Sir Charles, it's hardly my place to tell you." She drew herself up to her full height. There was a limit to how much eye-opening you were entitled to do for a Chief. If he couldn't see some things for himself - "If I were you, sir, I'd be looking elsewhere for the source of the trouble."

"You spoke of overwork?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your tone implied blame."

"It never occurred to you that at least some of it might be yours?"

He leaned back carefully on the edge of the desk. "For example?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"Much of the time she's merely carrying out your own instructions."

"And the rest?-"

"There are conflicting loyalties. Not all seniors see things your way."

"You mean the roster?"

"And other things, Sir Charles." She paused. "I've had a lot of residents through my hands, Sir Charles. Few of them wouldn't have found some way round the impossible demands. This girl's not like that. She'd sooner die than not try to give you what you expect - even if it can't be done on your present quota of staff. That kind of loyalty - not to say ability -" she hesitated. "It seems to me it would be a pity to let it slip away -" the grey eyes seemed to pierce right through her. There was no escape "- because certain individuals have a vested interest in preventing you from recognising the truth."

He was silent for so long that she wondered if this time she had gone too far. But when she looked up she understood why.

She pretended to hunt in her top drawer for something. This, too, was a routine developed over the years for the many times she'd been the bearer of bad or good news.

When she looked up again Sir Charles Hope-Moncrieff had had time to collect himself. "Perhaps you'd be good enough, Sister, to ask Miss Leigh to come to me here?"

Angela Bishop looked pointedly at the side room window where the staff nurse was already distributing the charts and case sheets.

"No, of course not, Sister. This is neither the time nor the place." He picked up his stethoscope and put his tendon hammer in his pocket, then held the door open for her to precede him into the ward.

It had been a long morning. Lesley's feet ached. From the ward window she could see that it had been snowing again. It glistened in the wood behind the hospital. Every leaf had its own fine tracery; each telephone wire supported its delicate burden. She sighed as she shifted unobtrusively from one foot to the other. Just lately the ward rounds had become interminable. In the old days Sir Charles had often held a chair for her or invited her to sit down at the bedside while he examined a patient. Since the night of Farmer's haemorrhage he had barely greeted her in the mornings and had kept her standing while he curtly dictated his notes. She was no longer invited to give an opinion on a case. Worst of all, there was now no prospect of anything else. She hadn't reached the point yet of making alternative plans, but she knew the moment couldn't be delayed for much longer. One day soon she would have to make up her mind.

Sir Charles, at last, was coming to the end of this round. For the first time in weeks he held the door open for her. She was startled by the old feeling she could never describe. Things were coming to a fine pass, she chided herself, when a simple gesture like that could make her feel like a queen. By contrast the past days seemed even more arid and deprived.

"Dr. Leigh," he half-turned in the act of washing his hands, "I would like you to come with me to Snykes this afternoon. I'll be leaving about two."

"I thought Dr. Dayborough and Dr. Graham were going. That would leave no one here for our wards."

"Graham is going into Glasgow with Dr. McLaughlan. I shall arrange with Dr. Queristri for young Williams to keep an eye on our unit as well as his own."

Lesley found herself in the corridor agape with surprise.

"Wonders will never cease! What's come over him?" She had spoken her thoughts aloud. "I wouldn't have believed he would have known who was on the roster, let alone allow them to stand in for his wards."

They drove through the December snowstorm in silence. Conditions were steadily deteriorating. The snowplough had been up this road recently, but already the slush was thick under their tyres. He stopped the car at the Flush.

"Dr. Leigh, I have something I must say before we go to the clinic." For once he seemed uncertain, almost embarrassed The very idea made her heart go out to" him.

There was a moment's silence. It filled out between them.

"I have done you a grave injustice," he said at last.

The old-world format of the apology was strangely moving. She said quickly, "No, no, how could you know the truth?" Somehow it didn't occur to her that it wasn't the gossip he was talking about.

He turned towards her and laid a hand on hers.

"No. Please let me speak. I should have foreseen all along that the two systems were incompatible; that they would make life impossibly difficult for you. How Herculean I hadn't seen until today. Sister Bishop has made me realise that I was expecting too much."

So that was it! She didn't know what to say. It was only the work after all. Sister had been doing her good fairy bit again.

"I should have realised that one person couldn't cope with all that night work - along with Outpatients and everything else thrown in."

The silence in the car grew too long. As always when she was with him she became painfully aware of her own heart. She felt sure if he listened he would hear it beat. "It's quite all right, Sir Charles," she managed to say stiffly. "You weren't to know the others wouldn't co-operate."

But he was continuing. "I want you to know, Miss Leigh, that I have appointed both Dr. Graham and yourself to the senior house posts as from August the first. By that time you will have completed your pre-registration year. Meantime, for the remainder of your stay as housemen, adjustments will be made in the present arrangements. I have spoken to Dr. Dayborough about these, and I shall be contacting Dr. Brown of the other unit tonight about the resumption of the roster for my wards as well as his own. I saw the Medical Superintendent this morning. The letters of appointment will be in the internal mail. You should have them by the time we return this afternoon."