for crippled soldiers—a friend of Gordon’s. I wrote to him and he answered that he’ll gladly arrange it.
Professor Leeds
[Thinking furiously]
Gordon’s friend . . . Gordon again! . . .
[Severely]
You seriously mean to tell me you, in your condition, want to nurse in a soldiers’ hospital! Absurd!
Marsden
[Thinking with indignant revulsion]
Quite right, Professor! . . . her beauty . . . all those men . . . in their beds . . . it’s too revolting! . . .
[With a persuasive quizzing tone]
Yes, I must say I can’t see you as a peace-time Florence Nightingale, Nina!
Nina
[Coolly, struggling to keep control, ignoring these remarks]
So you see, Father, I’ve thought of everything and there’s not the slightest reason to worry about me. And I’ve been teaching Mary how to take care of you. So you won’t need me at all. You can go along as if nothing had happened—and really, nothing will have happened that hasn’t already happened.
Professor Leeds
Why, even the manner in which you address me—the tone you take—proves conclusively that you’re not yourself!
