Swayne went on, “In my opinion Dr. Pearson is one of the best-qualified men on the hospital staff. I hope that he stays in charge of his department for many years to come. I respect his ability and his judgment—completely.”

Well, there it is, O’Donnell thought—out in the open and in plain words: an ultimatum to the chairman of the hospital board and the president of the medical board. In as many words Eustace Swayne had said: If you want my quarter million dollars, hands off Joe Pearson!

Later Orden Brown, Amelia, and O’Donnell—seated together in the front seat of the Browns’ Lincoln convertible—had driven back across town. They had been silent at first, then Amelia said, “Do you really think—a quarter of a million?”

Her husband answered, “He’s quite capable of giving it—if he feels inclined.”

O’Donnell asked, “I take it you received the message?”

“Yes.” Brown said it calmly, without embellishment and without seeking to pursue the subject. O’Donnell thought: Thank you for that. He knew this had to be his problem, not the chairman’s.

They dropped him at the entrance to his apartment hotel. As they said good night Amelia added, “Oh, by the way, Kent, Denise is separated but not divorced. I think there’s a problem there, though we’ve never discussed it. She has two children in high school. And she’s thirty-nine.”

Orden Brown asked her, “Why are you telling him all that?”

Amelia smiled. “Because he wanted to know.” She touched her husband’s arm. “You could never be a woman, dear. Not even with surgery.”

Watching the Lincoln move away, O’Donnell wondered how she had known. Perhaps she had overheard him and Denise Quantz saying good night. He had said politely that he hoped he would see her again. She had answered, “I live in New York with my children. Why don’t you call me next time you’re there?” Now O’Donnell wondered if, after all, he might take in that surgeons’ congress in New York next month which a week ago he had decided not to attend.

Abruptly his mind switched to Lucy Grainger and, irrationally, he had a momentary sense of disloyalty. He had gone from the sidewalk to the building entrance when his thoughts were broken by a voice saying, “Good night, Dr. O’Donnell.”

He looked around and recognized one of the surgical residents, Seddons. There was a pretty brunette with him, and her face seemed familiar. Probably one of the student nurses, he thought; she appeared about the age. He smiled at them both and said “Good night.” Then, using his passkey, he went through the glass doors into the elevator.

Vivian said, “He looked worried.”

Seddons answered cheerfully, “I doubt it, bright eyes. When you get to where he is, most of the worrying is behind you.”

The theater was over and now they were walking back to Three Counties. It had been a good road show—a broad, noisy musical—at which they had both laughed a good deal and held hands, and a couple of times Mike had draped his arm around the back of Vivian’s seat, allowing it to fall lightly, his fingers exploring her shoulders, and she had made no move to object.

Over dinner before the show they had talked of themselves. Vivian had questioned Mike about his intentions to practice surgery, and he had asked her why she had become a student nurse.

“I’m not sure I can explain, Mike,” she had said, “except that nursing was something I always wanted to do as far back as I can remember.” She had told him that her parents at first had opposed the idea, then, on learning how strongly she felt, had given way. “I guess it’s really that I wanted to do something for myself, and nursing was what appealed to me most.”

Seddons had asked her, “Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes, I do,” she had said. “Oh, now and then—when you’re tired sometimes, and you’ve seen some of the things in the hospital, and you’re thinking about home—you wonder if it’s worth it, if there aren’t easier things to do; but I guess that happens to everybody. Most of the time, though, I’m quite sure.” She had smiled, then said, “I’m a very determined person, Mike, and I’ve made up my mind to be a nurse.”

Yes, he had thought, you are determined; I can believe that. Glancing at Vivian covertly while she talked, he could sense an inner strength—a toughness of character behind what seemed at first a facade of gentle femininity. Once more, as he had a day or two ago, Mike Seddons had felt his interest quicken, but again he warned himself: No involvements! Remember, anything you feel is basically biological!

It was close to midnight now, but Vivian had signed the late book and there was no problem about hurrying in. Some of the older nurses, who had done their training under spartan regimes, felt the students were allowed too much freedom nowadays. But in practice it was seldom abused.

Mike touched her arm. “Let’s go through the park.”

Vivian laughed. “That’s an old line I’ve heard before.” But she offered no resistance as he steered her to a gateway and into the park beyond. In the darkness she could make out a line of poplars on either side, and the grass was soft underfoot.

“I’ve a whole collection of old lines. It’s one of my specialties.” He reached down and took her hand. “Do you want to hear more?”

“Like what, for example?” Despite her self-assurance her voice held the slightest of tremors.

“Like this.” Mike stopped and took both her shoulders, turning her to face him. Then he kissed her fully on the lips.

Vivian felt her heart beat faster, but not so much that her mind could not weigh the situation. Should she stop at once or let this go on? She was well aware that if she took no action now, later it might not be so easy.

Vivian already knew that she liked Mike Seddons and believed she could come to like him a good deal more. He was physically attractive and they were both young. She felt the stirrings of desire within her. They were kissing again and she returned the pressure of his lips. The tip of his tongue came lightly into her mouth; she met it with her own and the contact set up a delicious tingling. Mike tightened his arms around her, and through the thin summer dress she felt his thighs pressing tighter. His hands were moving, caressing her back. The right dropped lower; it passed lightly over the back of her skirt, then more heavily, each caress pulling her closer to him. Against her own body she felt a bulkiness. It stirred, intoxicatingly, heavenly. She knew clearly, as if with a second mind, that if she were going to, this was the moment to break away. Just a moment longer, she thought; just a moment longer!

Then suddenly it seemed as if this were an intermission, a release from other things around. Closing her eyes she savored the seconds of warmth and tenderness; these past months there had been so few. So many times since coming to Three Counties she had had to use control and self-discipline, her emotions pent up and tears unshed. When you were young, inexperienced, and a little frightened, sometimes it was hard to do. There had been so many things—the shocks of ward duty, pain, disease, death, the autopsy—and yet no safety valve to release the pressures building up inside. A nurse, even a student nurse, had to see so much of suffering and give so much in care and sympathy. Was it wrong, then, to grasp a moment of tenderness for herself? For an instant, with Mike holding her, she felt the same solace and relief as when, years before, she had run as a little girl into her mother’s arms. Mike had released her a little now and was holding her slightly away. He said, “You’re beautiful.” Impulsively she buried her face in his shoulder. Then he put a hand under her chin and their lips were together again. She felt the same hand drop and, from outside her dress, move lightly over her breasts. From every part of her body the desire to love and be loved welled up, madly, uncontrollably.