After which he put up the price.
Jo went on night duty for the first time.
A queer experience this, starting the day's work at half-past seven in
the evening and finishing at seven in the morning--breakfasting when
other people are dining; hearing their contented laughter as they go off
to bed; and then a queer loneliness and the ugly ticking of a clock. One
creeps round the big ward. What a noisy thing breathing is. Some one
groans, "Sestra, I cannot sleep." This man has not been ordered morphia.
Silence once more broken only by the sound of the breathing, distant
howling of dogs from the darkness or the hoot of an owl. The old
frostbite man coughs; he coughs again insistently. Both say "Yes" to hot
milk. So down to the big kitchen, some mice scatter by, the puppy wakes
up and thinks it is time for a game. A woman's voice calls loudly,
"Sestra." Taking the milk off, Sestra hurries across the courtyard and
along the corridor to the little rooms with the puppy tugging at her
skirt.
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