Agnes groaned and kicked the chair again. “I’m leaving now. Nurse, he’s all yours.” She fetched her coat and purse from the floor. They’d slid across the floor when she kicked the chair down.
Norman wouldn’t let her go in peace. “Agnes, wait a minute! Please let me explain!”
She didn’t want to hear him explain about Mary Alden – and her presence at the knife attack. She wished the attacker had knifed her as well as Norman.
The damned hospital was too white – she was sick of all this white. She’d have to get rid of the white at home. It was Norman’s favorite color. Oh, and the draperies. She’d nail them shut, so he couldn’t open them at night. And she’d nail the windows shut so he couldn’t open them during winter.
She reached the entrance and the mob attacked her. The reporters. Why’d Norman have to save Woodrow Wilson’s granddaughter? Couldn’t he have rescued someone unknown?
“Mrs. Balmoral, what’s it like being married to a hero?”
“Is it true that Mrs. Wilson is coming to pay her respects?”
“What does Mr. Balmoral have to say about the attack?”
“Where was he dining just before he saved the young woman?”
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