“The white boiler suit melted away and resolved itself into a white starched dress, a sister’s dress. The short, curly, reddish brown hair that I had expected wasn’t there when she sat up into the firelight; this girl had darkish, wavy hair, shingled at the back. The face was different, too; vaguely familiar, but quite different. It wasn’t Brenda Marshall at all, and I had been a fool. She brushed the hair back from her face, and stood up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I must have dropped asleep. Are ...you Captain Clarke?’ I nodded. And then I hesitated while I gathered my wits together and composed myself. ‘You must be the nurse.’ ‘I’m Sister Dawson,’ she replied. ‘Dr Turnbull brought me down here and said it would be all right if I slept here. I hope we didn’t wake you when we came in?’ I shook my head. ‘I never heard you. I thought you were going to sleep in the other room.’ She nodded. ‘We brought down his sleeping bag.’ She indicated it, draped over a chair.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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