But, after all, it was not long now, and then she’d be gone for good.
And there was no getting over the fact that she had been very kind to
father. She had nursed him day and night at the end. Indeed, both
Constantia and Josephine felt privately she had rather overdone the not
leaving him at the very last. For when they had gone in to say good-bye
Nurse Andrews had sat beside his bed the whole time, holding his wrist
and pretending to look at her watch. It couldn’t have been necessary.
It was so tactless, too. Supposing father had wanted to say
something—something private to them. Not that he had. Oh, far from it!
He lay there, purple, a dark, angry purple in the face, and never even
looked at them when they came in. Then, as they were standing there,
wondering what to do, he had suddenly opened one eye. Oh, what a
difference it would have made, what a difference to their memory of
him, how much easier to tell people about it, if he had only opened
both! But no—one eye only. It glared at them a moment and then... went
out.