"
"No, it's nothing to matter, and you can go back to work, all right,"
briskly echoed Marlow, who was no coddler of any hands at Peter
Rolls's; "that is, you can when I've patched you up a bit. And nurse
isn't going to be bad, either. She won't be disfigured, I can
guarantee that--thanks to you."
"Thanks to me?" Win echoed.
"Yes, just that. Perhaps you don't realize that you probably saved her
life."
"No. I--I don't think I've realized anything yet." She found herself
suddenly wanting to cry, but remembered a day on the _Monarchic_ (as
she always did remember if tears felt near) and swallowed the rising
lump in her throat.
"Well, don't bother about it. You can get conceited later. Here, drink
this to quiet your nerves in case you feel jumpy, and now run along.
It'll be all right for you downstairs. The news will have got to your
dep by this time and they'll know why you're late."
Win "ran along" and found the doctor's prophecy correct The news had
bounded ahead of her.
"I hear you've been distinguishing yourself," said Mr. Wellby, the
floorwalker. "Let's see your hands. Oh, I guess they won't put you out
of business, a brave girl like you.
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