CHAPTER XIX
As she came in, Aylmer looked at her with more observation than usual,
and he acknowledged to himself that she was pretty--remarkably pretty,
quite a picture, as people say, and he liked her, as one likes a
confidante, a reliable friend. He trusted her, remembering how he had
given himself away to her that dreadful day in the Boulogne hospital....
And she had another quality that pleased him immensely; she was neither
coquettish nor affected, but simple and serious. She appeared to think
solely of her duties, and in Aylmer's opinion that was just what a nurse
should do.
* * * * *
But Edith's remark that Dulcie was madly in love with him had made a
certain impression on his mind. Indeed, everything Edith said, even a
merely trivial observation, was of importance to Aylmer. Edith wouldn't
have said that unless she meant it. If it was true, did it matter?
Aylmer was very free from vanity and masculine coquetry. He had a good
deal of pride and great self-respect. Like almost every human being who
is superior to the average, he didn't think ill of himself; there were
things that he was proud of.
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