_how_ revolting and indecent these nurses were--she put on a look as
if she were in with it all, and it all passed off as easy as
winking. She swung her haunches and arched her eyes with the best
of them. And they behaved as if she were exactly one of themselves.
And yet, with the curious cold tact of women, they left her alone,
one and all, in private: just ignored her.
It is truly incredible how Alvina became blooming and bouncing at
this time. Nothing shocked her, nothing upset her. She was always
ready with her hard, nurse's laugh and her nurse's quips. No one was
better than she at _double-entendres._ No one could better give the
nurse's leer. She had it all in a fortnight. And never once did she
feel anything but exhilarated and in full swing. It seemed to her
she had not a moment's time to brood or reflect about things--she
was too much in the swing. Every moment, in the swing, living, or
active in full swing. When she got into bed she went to sleep. When
she awoke, it was morning, and she got up. As soon as she was up and
dressed she had somebody to answer, something to say, something to
do. Time passed like an express train--and she seemed to have known
no other life than this.
Not far away was a lying-in hospital. A dreadful place it was. There
she had to go, right off, and help with cases. There she had to
attend lectures and demonstrations. There she met the doctors and
students. Well, a pretty lot they were, one way and another. When
she had put on flesh and become pink and bouncing she was just their
sort: just their very ticket. Her voice had the right twang, her
eyes the right roll, her haunches the right swing. She seemed
altogether just the ticket. And yet she wasn't.
It would be useless to say she was not shocked. She was profoundly
and awfully shocked. Her whole state was perhaps largely the result
of shock: a sort of play-acting based on hysteria. But the dreadful
things she saw in the lying-in hospital, and afterwards, went deep,
and finished her youth and her tutelage for ever. How many infernos
deeper than Miss Frost could ever know, did she not travel? the
inferno of the human animal, the human organism in its convulsions,
the human social beast in its abjection and its degradation.
For in her latter half she had to visit the slum cases. And such
cases! A woman lying on a bare, filthy floor, a few old coats thrown
over her, and vermin crawling everywhere, in spite of sanitary
inspectors. But what did the woman, the sufferer, herself care! She
ground her teeth and screamed and yelled with pains. In her calm
periods she lay stupid and indifferent--or she cursed a little. But
<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>