Australian Hospital Read Online Free Page B

sitting elsewhere.”
    “Young Buckland’s table?”
    Candace’s chin went up. “Why not?”
    “Why not indeed. He is one of the N.T. Bucklands, and extremely well placed. To put it crudely, you’d do yourself proud.”
    Candace was seething now, and it was all she could do not to rise and leave his table.
    “What is N.T.?” she asked instead, determined not to give him another opportunity to score.
    “Northern Territory. The Bucklands are cattle people. They freight their cattle by air. You want to ask young Buckland all about air-lift beef. Men like women to be interested in what they do. Interest is almost as potent as French perfume.”
    Again Candace had to hold on to her temper.
    “John,” she began, flushing as Halliday’s brows rose sardonically at her use of the Christian name, “appeals to me as a nice, fresh, heartening example of young Australian manhood. He would be years younger than I—”
    “Probably one. But proceed.”
    “There is nothing more to say. I’m just trying to tell you that he is the first Australian male that I have met, and that I am favourably impressed.”
    “You are wrong, Miss Jamieson. You have met me. Don’t tell me”—he grinned crookedly—“you were favourably impressed.”
    Candace did not heed his sarcasm. She had rather gathered the impression that Halliday was English, and said so now.
    “I was born in Australia. My grandfather was Australian. I have been educated in England, that’s all. I suppose you expect what all English people seem to expect—either a slow drawl or a nasal twang or a deadly monotone.” Candace, who had thought Rosemary’s animated voice a delight, and found pleasure in John’s leisured tone, did not answer.
    She raised her eyes to find that Halliday was looking at her with amusement. The cool, vivid-blue depths were more appraising than ever.
    “Now you,” he stated reflectively, “have a very gentle and level voice.”
    “I need a level voice. It is part of my trade.”
    “Don’t tell me you work?”
    “I’m a nurse.”
    “So!”
    He sat back, regarding her with interest.
    “I am generally perceptive over such matters, but I would not have guessed that,” he said at length.
    “I suppose you are thinking of my passage on this ship. That was paid.”
    “No, I was not thinking of that. Although I said just now your voice was gentle, you are not entirely the placid type. There is a spark in you, an inclination to answer back, that I have noticed in some Australian nurses but never in the English. Perhaps it is the opposed climate, or perhaps it is a different training. I don’t know. But I would certainly not take you for an English nurse, docile, disciplined, obedient without asking questions.”
    Again Candace was annoyed. She had always prided herself on her ability to submit cheerfully to authority, and she flushed now with resentment.
    Immediately, she realised that her hot cheeks must only bear out what Halliday had just observed of her. A spark, he had said, an inclination to answer back. What right had he to jump to such a conclusion? How had he reached his finding on English nurses—“docile, disciplined, obedient without asking questions”?
    She lifted her head proudly, and inquired, “You think the English docility a liability then?”
    He shrugged indifferently. “On the contrary, I admire, and approve of, the English nurse, and the fitting and correct way she retreats to the background.”
    “For an onlooker you seem to have formed definite opinions.”
    “I am not an onlooker. I am a doctor.”
    Candace paused. She had walked right into that, she thought ruefully. She might have guessed by the way Stephen Halliday had spoken that he was on ground that was familiar to him.
    There was a silence for a moment, then Candace spoke deliberately and with not a little malice.
    “You must find your Australian nurses rather a trial, Doctor.”
    “My dear child, all nurses are the same to me. I see to it they