Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce.
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