He told her coldly that nurses should not stamp their feet. He made her crouch down and retrieve the lancet and the probe that had fallen and clean them with her apron. Nurse Peggs did this obediently enough. But as she did so, she began to sob uncontrollably, stammering out that she would not stay in Bath ‘to be insulted with a vile nickname’ just because she couldn’t fit ‘into a blasted angel’s shoes’.

It came to Sir William then, hearing his daughter mildly but jealously disparaged by Nurse Peggs, that he, no less than his patients, did not like this woman at all. Indeed he earnestly wished her to depart from Henrietta Street and never return. But he knew that – on that very afternoon – he was going to operate on a man whose life he hoped to save by opening up his chest and taking out a tumour from his lung, and he could not possibly hope to succeed in this operation without the constant vigilance of a trained nurse.

He thus made himself help Nurse Peggs to her feet, and offered her the silk handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his frock coat. He could find no words to console her; he decided the handkerchief would have to be enough. But it was not enough. Nurse Peggs dried her eyes and flung the thing away. She then told Sir William that she was going to pack her suitcase and leave Bath on the first available omnibus.

‘Why do you not take the train?’ Sir William could not prevent himself from asking.

‘Train?’ said Nurse Peggs. ‘Terrible invention! Ruination of the world! I will not set foot on one of them.’

It was at this moment that a knock on Sir William’s door heralded the arrival of Mrs Morrissey, to announce to him what she had been able to bring for his lunch.

Seeing Mrs Morrissey’s face, smiling as it often was, and hearing her beginning to talk about a dish of rissoles, Sir William beckoned her frantically into the room, even as Nurse Peggs banged down the now-tainted surgical instruments onto their tray and strode towards the door. She pushed rudely past Clorinda Morrissey and her footsteps could be heard running down the hallway.

‘Away and away …’ said Sir William. ‘She is gone. The “Square Peg”. And good riddance! But dear Mrs Morrissey, please do come in and close the door and tell me what I am to do.’

Sir William sank down into a chair and passed his hands through his abundant hair. Mrs Morrissey stood regarding him for a moment, then ventured: ‘You will have to tell me what has happened, Sir. Or else what can I advise?’

‘What has happened,’ said Sir William, ‘is that my world has fallen apart.’

Sir William indicated that Mrs Morrissey should sit opposite him, in the chair where his patients habitually sat during a consultation. He noticed that she consulted the surgery clock before she agreed to do as he asked and he knew that she couldn’t stay long; she had her baking to return to, her tables to lay. But he fervently hoped that she would remain with him for a moment. Ever since Valentine Ross had introduced her to him, he had liked her. He saw in her the kind of independent spirit possessed by Jane, yet she was of a more amenable and gracious disposition and her voice was soft and calm.