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"She doesn't get nearly enough sleep and fresh air. A girl of her age should be having some fun - and regular hours like the nurses have." Mrs. Brent delivered her broadside. She settled back on her pillows.

"And we don't think it's right, just because the lady doctor's so conscientious, that other people should palm everything on to her." Miss Robertson had found her tongue.

Harry Dayborough gave his derisive laugh.

"It's no laughing matter." She was on to him at once. "There's not enough spreading of the load around here." She began to gasp. Breathing out became difficult.

"That's quite enough," Sister said primly. "You'll be giving yourself another of your attacks." She began plumping up the pillows.

"You're perfectly right, it's no laughing matter." Sir Charles quietly signalled the staff nurse to fetch the ephedrine. "I promise you it will be looked into. I shall personally guarantee that Dr Leigh has a day off later this week. Will that satisfy you?" His hands were busy with the ampoule of the drug. "And Sister will see that she gets to bed early tonight." He held the syringe to the light and expelled the air. "Upon my soul," he was rubbing the skin of Miss Robertson's arm with meth ether, "I didn't know we had a built-in watch committee on our hands!" The subcutaneous injection was thrust home. "The B.M.A. could be doing with your services to fight their case with the Ministry." He nodded to Carol Bell and she wheeled round the oxygen cylinder.

'There's too many things professors don't know." Miss Robertson wheezed it out between gasps.

Sir Charles put the mask of the machine in her hands to that she knew she had control of it herself.

"All right, Sister," Mrs. Brent caught Angela Bishop's warning eye. "We've had our say, and real sorry we are if it's caused any trouble. That's the last thing we'd want to do. It's only because Dr. Leigh's been so good to us." She was having sudden difficulty with something in her own eye. "No one else takes the time to explain things to you. That counts for a lot." She looked appealingly at the Chief.

"It does indeed," he said quietly. "I appreciate your concern. Now I don't want you distressing yourselves." He looked round to include those who had taken part in the demonstration. "No one is going to get into any trouble. You leave it with me. I'll see what can be done." There was something infinitely reassuring in his manner. Even Lesley, who was otherwise preoccupied wishing that the floor would open and swallow her up, could sense the atmosphere of restored confidence in the ward. They had placed the matter in the Great Man's hands. There was no further need to worry. All would be well.

As usual she was accompanying him to his car before he referred to the embarrassing subject again.

"You seem to have made many friends in the short time you've been here," he said at last.

"I'm sorry about the outburst, Sir Charles. I don't know what came over them. Sister will never forgive me. It'll be all over the hospital by lunchtime."" She tried to make a joke of it. "They mean well, but they don't understand." She faltered in face of his steady gaze.

"Perhaps they understand better than you think, Miss Leigh." They had reached the coupe, and he turned and looked down at her. "Where do you think your first duty as a doctor lies?"

"To the patients." She was puzzled.

He shook his head slowly. "To yourself," he said. "If you neglect your own health you become less efficient. Then you're of much less service to others. It's one of the hardest lessons to learn. Your greatest fault is that you try to do too much. You must learn to be more selective."

She dropped her eyes. Here it came again - the haunted, hunted feeling. "How does one manage to do that?"

"You must discriminate between what can't wait and what must be left until tomorrow. There's so little time and only the day's ration of energy." He was shaking his head wryly as though it were a truth with which only grudgingly had he come to terms himself. "Oh, Lesley, Lesley!" It was the first time he had used her name. "You can't take on the whole world and its problems. You've got to keep something back for yourself." His eyes were scrutinising her face. "When did you last do your haemoglobin?" He touched her lower eyelid gently to check the colour of her mucous membranes.

"My own haemoglobin? Why?" she said anxiously. "Do you think it needs doing?"

"Mrs. Brent was right. You are paler than you were a few weeks ago. If you were a patient of mine - instead of a colleague," he hesitated, "I would say you were under some kind of strain. Is it merely overwork?" He was still searching her face. "Nothing else is wrong, is it?"

She shook her head. "I'm just a little tired, sir." Automatically, she used the excuse she had given to Jim. "You're right, of course, I have been foolish - trying to do everything all at once." She hung her head to hide the tears which nowadays seemed to spring so readily to her eyes. Solicitude from him, especially, always pierced the shell of her armour.

Unseen by her, he half raised his arms, then let them fall limply at his sides. "Miss Leigh." He hesitated again. "I know there are a great many things a Chief isn't allowed to know - about what goes on in his unit, I mean. If you were in some kind of jam -" he seemed to be having difficulty with the words, "I'd like to think you would come to me with it."

"Thank you, sir." He had to stoop to catch the whisper.

"I'll do the rural clinic myself this afternoon." His manner
became brisk. "That way you'll be able to get well ahead with what must be done here. Try to get a good night's sleep." He got into his car and wound down the window.

She thought he was going to say something more, but he glanced over her shoulder and apparently changed his mind.

"Goodbye, then, Doctor." He turned his key in the ignition. "I'll see you in the morning."

"What was that touching little scene all about?" Jim had come sauntering up behind her.

"Don't tell me the grapevine hasn't got it already." Even to her own ears her voice sounded bitter.

"The contretemps about him overworking you? Haven't I been saying so for weeks? Loyalty's all very well, Duchess, but hang it all, there are limits."

For a man who was so dense about some things, she thought bleakly, surprisingly little else seemed to escape him. "Who told you about it?" she asked to gain time. Even the use of the pet name annoyed her today.

"Who do you think? Carol Bell, of course. The staff nurse network - still the fastest form of modern communication." He grinned down at her.

"He's let me off the Snykes rural clinic." She changed the subject.

"Good show." He rubbed his hands together. "Now we can have a swinging night out. It's long overdue, I must say. Disuse atrophy is in danger of setting in. This affair's positively dying on its feet of malnutrition."

For almost the first time she found the proprietorial air irritating. She recognised it as the unchallenged pattern of the past. "You know we can't both get off together."

"Leave the details to Uncle Jim." He patted her shoulder. "I'll arrange it with Sandy." He put a hand under her elbow and started to steer her towards the staff block. "He'll stand in for our unit as well as his own. All in a good cause - Operation Rescue for Lesley Leigh."

She didn't respond to his levity. "You know we're not allowed to have him in our wards."

"You're very touchy these days." He was still unruffled. "What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over."

"What about Dayborough?" She looked up without smiling.

"What about him? You of all people should know what he thinks of the schedule. He never said anything last time I broke it - aided and abetted me, if you must know the truth."

Lesley stared at him incredulously. "You ought to watch him, Jim." She was horrified.

"Nonsense. You've got a thing about Harry, just because you don't hit it off with him. That's part of your trouble, Duchess. You want everyone to love you, instead of being satisfied with nearly everyone." He tried to tease her in the old way.

"It's not nonsense,. Jim." There was an urgent note in her voice now. "He's not to be trusted. He's trying to trick you."

"That's all you know." He refused to take her seriously. "He says if I play along with him, he's going to back me -" He broke off.

"Back you for what?"

"Nothing. It's not important." He shook off his momentary excitement.

"Back you for. what?" She stood her ground.

"For one of the senior house posts," he admitted reluctantly. "I didn't mean to tell you about it yet."

"You've got your heart set on that, have you?" she asked carefully.

"Sure thing - and he's just the guy to swing it. His word still carries a lot of weight with the Chief. Well, it would - stands to reason."

"Yes, Sir Charles owes him a lot." She spoke almost to herself. "As Dayborough's never done reminding me." She was silent for a moment. "I still think he could be fooling you."

"Perhaps you don't think I'm good enough for the job." For the first time he sounded bitter.

"It's not that, and you know it. But from where I stand, Harry Dayborough's not out for anyone but himself."

"Now who's being dense? It's obviously to his advantage to have these posts filled by someone he knows will play ball with him."

"On that showing you'd expect him to back me for the other job."

"The way things were looking a few moments ago I shouldn't think you'd be needing much help from him." When he took this mildly mocking line she could never be sure if he were joking or not.

He resumed his heavy avuncular air. "Enough of the natter. You look out your best bib and tucker. We're going to the theatre tonight. We might even try that new spot afterwards - the one with the late-night cabaret."

"I'm sorry, Jim, but I'm not going."

"Cut it out, old girl. Surely we're due at least one night out together?" He was getting riled. "I'll phone about tickets."

"With all due respect, you might try asking me first."

"When has that ever been necessary before?"

"Perhaps you've been taking it too much for granted." The past two nights' sleeplessness were beginning to take their toll.

He looked at her quizzically. "You are on your high horse this morning. Whatever has the Big White Chief been saying to you?"

"I've had my instructions," she said stiffly. "I'm having an early night."

"Don't tell me he even dictates when you sleep now?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Guess it could be right what they're saying about you."

Normally she would have asked him what he meant by that, but for some reason she found herself reluctant to hear it. There was something in his tone which was seeking a confrontation. That was another of the things she didn't feel up to facing just yet. "And I'll thank you not to discuss me with other people." She turned on her heel.

"Now look here, Duchess." He grabbed hold of her arm. "I'm not in the habit of discussing you behind your back. But it's time you woke up to yourself; snapped out of those daydreams. You're a big girl now. The way you're going on you're liable to end up getting hurt."

She looked at him unblinking. "Perhaps I could say the same thing about you. I'm sorry, Jim. I know you mean to be kind, but I must make up my own mind. I can't risk having Sandy in my ward."

"Kind?" he expostulated. "Who the dickens is being kind?" He almost shook her. "If you don't want to come with me I'd rather you came right out with it instead of all this rigmarole about Dayborough and the rota."

"I'm sorry," she repeated wearily. "I'm dropping on my feet. I haven't had much sleep in the last two days. I can't think straight, let alone find my way through involved innuendoes. It's not that I don't want to go - just that I can't."

"O.K., Duchess. If you say so." He let go her arm. "Though I wonder if even you know whether or not that's true." There was still that whimsical look in his eyes. "But have it your own way. What you say always goes with me. That's one thing at least you should be sure of by now."

When he'd left, her legs felt unaccountably weak. What she'd said about Sandy was right. She couldn't risk having him in her ward. Dayborough already held enough trump cards without that. But as she made her way along the staff corridor to her room, she could no longer fool herself that was the only reason. She'd been glad, almost glad of the excuse not to go out. It prevented her having to face up to the truth. For the first time that she could ever remember she didn't much feel like going anywhere with Jim.

By
Sunday morning Miss Robertson was very much worse. When Lesley was called to the ward her patient was in the grip of her fiercest spasm yet. What was more, she was terrified.

When she had regained her breath and was inhaling great gusts of oxygen she insisted that this time nothing would prevent her from going home.

She was so agitated about it that denial looked like precipitating another dangerous attack. As she was one of Sir Charles's old patients Lesley agreed with Sister that they ought to phone the Chief at his home. It seemed highly significant that each of the last two bouts had followed a visit from Harry Dayborough. His manner, to say the least, had been caustic since Wednesday.

Sir Charles hadn't left for the hospital. He listened carefully to Lesley's story. His reaction was swift. She was to telephone for an ambulance, and he would meet her at the patient's house. In her limited experience she had never before heard of a resident accompanying a patient home.

As the ambulance swung its way into the city, Miss Robertson, who only an hour before had looked as though she were dying, grew chirpier and chirpier. By the time they reached her front door, Lesley was sure that her family - not to mention Sir Charles - would be wondering what all the panic had been about.

Her sister's face, however, showed no surprise. This sort of thing had obviously happened before.

Sir Charles had already arrived, and Lesley was struck again by his extraordinary gentleness with anyone under stress.

He had his hand on Miss Robertson's arm and was talking quietly. "Take it easily, my dear. You're going to be all right."