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entered the clinical room and sent her a sympathetic smile, having heard every word. She had been busy in the adjoining room, getting it ready for a new occupant. 'That was quite a slamming. What did you do?' she asked lightly.
    'Absolutely nothing,' Gillian said bitterly.
    Penny raised an eyebrow. 'He's quick but he's usually fair.
    'Not where I'm concerned. To hear him, you'd think I'd been dancing on the ceiling and swinging from the chandelier instead of doing my best to restrain Mrs Maddox from attempting much the same things!'
    'She's high on morphine, isn't she? Why didn't you explain?'
    Gillian threw her a sceptical glance. 'I didn't get the chance—and when he'd finished wiping the floor with me I didn't have the inclination.'
    Penny laughed. 'I don't think you like him very much.'
    'Not at all! And he doesn't like me. It's mutual antipathy.' Gillian was very angry. His scathing words were still ringing in her ears. Her heart was hammering and she felt quite sick, her legs were jelly. She was suddenly very cold and trembly. Her head swam and she clutched at the bench for support. Penny turned to her, concerned. Through a thickening mist, she heard the girl's voice asking if she was all right. She couldn't answer. She was falling, falling ...
    *
    Gillian came round as she was being lifted by strong arms and laid none too gently on a couch in the clinical room.
    'Sal volatile!'
    She seemed to know that impatient voice. She turned away her head, murmuring protest, hating the pungency of the salts. But they were effective and her head began to clear. She opened her eyes to see Mark Barlow bending over her, fingers on the pulse in her neck. She struggled with the confusion of her thoughts, oddly determined that she wouldn't come out with the traditional ' where am I?'
    'I'm all right,' she said lamely. He was much too near. She was too conscious of penetrating grey eyes and a grim expression. She was too aware of his physical presence. Instinctively she put out her hands to push him away. He caught and held them. In her muddled state of mind, his hands seemed to throb with power and passion. He was angry, she realised, surprised. Because she had been silly enough to faint? Why had she fainted? She was perfectly well. 'Could I have some water?'
    Penny brought it. 'Feeling better?' she asked kindly.
    Gillian sat up, drank some of the ice-cold water and felt the faintness receding. 'Yes, thanks ...'
    Perhaps she had returned to work too soon, she thought ruefully. But it hadn't been possible to save much out of her salary and she was too independent to seek financial help from her parents. She might have managed for a few more weeks but she had hated to see her small reserves dwindling and the job at Greenvale had seemed opportune. Private nursing paid so well. She was really quite fit, she thought proudly. She had merely been doing too much. And the strongly emotional reaction to yet another clash with a man she particularly disliked and who could infuriate her without even trying had just been the last straw.
    'I know you're busy, Penny.' Mark had seen the girl's quick glance at her watch. 'I'll take care of Gillian if you want to get on.'
    'Well, Miss Wilmot is due for her injection.' Penny smiled at him, very warm. 'And you are a doctor, after all!'
    She hurried from the room.
    Thoughtful, Mark surveyed the girl on the couch who was much too pale and wouldn't meet his eyes.
    'Are you pregnant?' he asked abruptly.
    The brusque words shocked Gillian into full consciousness. She threw up her head and glared at him. 'No, I'm not!'
    The negation was so fierce, so vehement, that he blinked. 'Just a thought,' he drawled soothingly. 'It happens.'
    'Not to me, it doesn't,' she told him coldly.
    The merest glimmer of a smile came and went in the grey eyes at that proud retort. 'Then we'd better have you checked out,' he decided. 'Healthy young women don't make a practice of fainting all over the place.'
    'I don't make a practice