Excerpt from In the Cardinal Ward: Some Pages From the Journal of a Nursing Sister
Ward, so that I feel I belong to it. My familiar name is Sister Cardinal, so that I feel the ward belongs to me. The wealthier visitors usually hear my story from the matron. They nod sympa thetically, and thereafter refer to me as that poor Sister Cardinal. One has just dropped in on us, accompanied by a very well groomed young man, evidently her son, and they talked together for a moment or two at the far end of the room, near Number 15. Their talk was quite loud enough for Number 15 and several of the others to hear. The young man turned round and looked at me; he had heard his mother's rapid version of my story. Number 15 is an ex-policeman; he is recovering, and sits up and takes notice; he is a pronounced, even blatant, Socialist; he made remarks with his mouth full at tea-time.
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