Nurse Angela Read Online Free PDF Page A

beyond were laden with pink and white blossoms and swayed gently in the breeze.
    For a while Milly and Angela sat in companionable silence; then they looked at each other and smiled.
    “It was nice of them to ask us around before the mob gets here, wasn’t it?” said Milly.
    “Yes, it’s so peaceful at the moment. What time are the others arriving?”
    “Any time after six, so we’ve plenty of time. Debbie was furious that she wasn’t asked to dinner.”
    Angela frowned. “How can she make her jealousy so obvious?”
    “Not everyone has your pride and refinement. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, Angela, but how are things actually between you and Roger? Are you in love?”
    Angela felt her cheeks go a faint pink. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Love is a thing that comes gradually—at least, I think it does.”
    “You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
    “No. I think what one does feel very often is a liking, a certain attraction for a person on the first meeting, but not love—real love. I think that comes only when you really get to know each other. Anything else is sheer emotionalism.”
    “Don’t you think, perhaps, that love takes people different ways according to their temperament? You have that placid nature that makes a good nurse. Love will probably come upon you unaware. Others, like Debbie, have more volatile natures and can fall quite violently in love on sight—and it can still be the real thing.”
    Before Angela could think that over a call came from the kitchen to take their places at the table. A minute later Peter entered the room carrying soup dishes. Roger followed with a huge bowl of, delicious-smelling soup, which he served solemnly to each person as if he were a professional waiter—much to their amusement.
    “This looks and smells wonderful,” Milly exclaimed. “Who made it? I’m sure it didn’t come out of a tin.”
    “Most certainly it didn’t,” Roger exclaimed. “I made it myself. I made the soup and dessert, and Peter cooked the main course.”
    “Anyone would think you two were confirmed bachelors,” laughed Milly. “What made you so interested in cooking?”
    “Sheer necessity in the first place,” Roger answered. “We have to eat, we hate scrappy meals and continually eating out is too expensive. Also, we like having you ladies in occasionally, and we don’t like having a cook around. After all, some of the best cooks in the world are men, isn’t that so, Pete?”
    Peter grinned. “Sure, and some of the best men are cooks.”
    “Well, there’s one thing,” laughed Milly. “You’ll both make excellent husbands.”
    Peter looked at her mischievously. “Which one of us would you like, Milly?”
    She laughed. “I’ll think it over.”
    Roger looked at Angela. “Would you think it a desirable trait in a husband or would you be possessive of your kitchen?”
    “May I have notice of that question, please?” she said, blushing faintly.
    Peter rose. “Excuse me, folks. The next course is all mine.” He disappeared into the kitchen while Roger gathered up the empty soup dishes.
    It was when they were having their coffee that Peter suddenly remarked, “By the way, Angela, that doctor of yours at the hospital—what’s his name—LeFeure. I was browsing through some old newspapers the other day and came across something about a man of that n ame.”
    Angela felt a sudden, swift reaction. “Oh? What was it?” she asked jerkily.
    “It was about a Frenchman by the name of Michael LeFeure. Apparently he was a collaborator with the Nazis in the last war—” Angela’s heart seemed to stop beating, though she could not have said why. She stared at Peter unbelievingly.
    “A collaborator? It ... it couldn’t be the same, I’m sure of it.”
    Peter shrugged. “Could be. Might not be. How do I know? It wouldn’t be your doctor of course, but it could have been his father.”
    “I don’t believe it was his father