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Dr. Everard van Tijlen didn’t look in the least fatherly. He looked shockingly handsome, very sure of himself and slightly amused. Charity’s tongue spoke the words she had thought but never intended to voice. “You didn’t look in the least fatherly the other evening.”
Her green eyes sparkled with rising temper, not improved at all by his laugh. “I’m flattered you were sufficiently interested to notice us,” he said smoothly, “but I must point out that I said I was fatherly toward my nurses.”
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Charity raised her green eyes for a moment and smiled. “Hi,” she said briefly, “I shan’t be a tick—there’s some cool coffee on the tray and a mug behind you.”
She bent her head again while her companion did as she had suggested and then took the chair opposite her. He was a middle-sized young man, with a pleasant face and pale hair already receding a little. He looked to be a mild man too, but Charity knew that there was a good deal of determination behind his placid features. Clive wanted to get to the top—to become a consultant—he had been a registrar for several years now and was liked and respected by the consultants he worked for. Sooner or later one of them would retire, and he, if he was lucky, would have a chance of stepping into his shoes. He sat quietly now, admiring Charity; he was almost in love with her, he certainly liked her enormously and she would make him a splendid wife. Besides, she was known to all the consultants and a great many of the local GP’s and they liked her, a fact which would be of considerable help to him. She was certainly a good-looker, although he had sometimes wished that she weren’t so clever. Not that she ever paraded the fact; there was no need, it was so obvious, and he had never quite liked her hair, it was so vivid, and somehow the simple knot she wore above her slender neck made it all the more so. A vague longing to change her into someone smaller and meeker and less spectacular entered his head, to be instantly dismissed as treason; Charity was a darling girl; he made the thought positive by asking: “How about coming out this evening? I’m sick of canteen food.”
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