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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 03, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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THE NURSE'S STORY -
By Harold Carter
It did not require much discern
ment to discover that Miss Joyce, the
head nurse, and Dr. Raymond, the
senior interne, were in love with each
other. Some of the nurses prophesied
that they would get married when
the doctor started his private prac
tice in the fall. I was not so sure.
I was watching them narrowly. You
know how one falls into the habit of
being interested in the others of the
personnel in little hospitals. I had
seen the romance flame out, remain
for one brief and glorious week and
come crashing to earth.
Everybody was commenting upon
the fact that they did not speak to
each other any more, except in the
most formal way.
"They'll make up," said Nurse
I watched them and it seemed to
me that I had never seen any couple
look quite so miserable before. I did
not seem to me to be an ordinary
quarrel. And Miss Joyce was pecu
liar; everybody knew how she had
kept to herself and told nothing about
Whenever I see a woman of live
and twenty, single, with those glori
ous hazel eyes, and that fair, chest
nutty hair, and a carnage and figure
like a Juno's, I know that the has had
I was wondering what had come
between them when I played the
eavesdropper unintentionally that
night in May.
It was the sort of night that poets
sing about, all lilac scented, with a
young moon and an inviting darkness
in the recesses of the hospital gar
den. I don't know what took me
toward the summer house, but I
heard them talking at rhe door and
dared not stir for fear of letting them
know they were overheard.
"If you had told me, Miriam!" I
"That I am married?" she an
swered. "So that you need not have
fallen in love with me, I suppose!"
"No, Miriam! Heaven knows I nev
er could have prevented that. But at
least I should not have lived in a
fool's paradise. You can divorce him,
I heard her weeping in his arms and
I knew that her response was a nega
tive one. She was a Catholic; di
vorce did not exist for her church.
And, as they talked, he soothingly,
Saw Her Run to the Dying Man and
Kneel by Him
she gradually gaining coherence, I
learned the story.
She had been married five years be
fore, while only a girl, to a man who
had swiftly run through her little in
heritance and then begun to drink
and gamble. He had abused her and
had sunk lower and lower, until at
last, f eeling that she. could no longer
help to raise him up, Miriam Joyce
had left him.
That was two years before, and she ,
heard the doctor say.
.had heard nothing of him. She had,