Hansen said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I dare say,” she whispered on, “that it’s quite in the ordinary run of things for you gentlemen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s an atmosphere—a something sinister—”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nurse Murrow’s broad shoulders jerked impatiently. There was a talk-chilling quality in being so determinedly ma’am’d. She gave it up, and settled herself starchily in an armchair. She adjusted a lamp so that it shaded more efficiently her eyes.
A floor board creaked upstairs—once.
That would be Dr. Worth, she decided, going to bed. What a man! What a shining light in his profession! A little bigoted, perhaps, in some things, but so distinguished—admirable—a bachelor, too—But what nonsense!
A complete stillness settled gently on the house. The stillness of a grave.
Yes, she thought, just exactly that—the stillness of a grave. …