CHAPTER XVII.
ENTER--NURSE ROSEMARY Nurse Rosemary Gray had arrived at Gleneesh.
When she and her "box" were deposited on the platform of the little wayside railway station, she felt she had indeed dropped from the clouds; leaving her own world, and her own identity, on some far-distant planet.
A motor waited outside the station, and she had a momentary fear lest she should receive deferential recognition from the chauffeur.

But he was as solid and stolid as any other portion of the car, and paid no more attention to her than he did to her baggage.

The one was a nurse; the other, a box, both common nouns, and merely articles to be conveyed to Gleneesh according to orders.

So he looked straight before him, presenting a sphinx-like profile beneath the peak of his leather cap, while a slow and solemn porter helped Jane and her luggage into the motor.

When she had rewarded the porter with threepence, conscientiously endeavouring to live down to her box, the chauffeur moved foot and hand with the silent precision of a machine, they swung round into the open, and took the road for the hills.
Up into the fragrant heather and grey rocks; miles of moor and sky and solitude.