The day had been a trying one, but ever since his connection with Miss O’Toole in the hallway he hadn’t felt as weary as he might if he had to face this outbreak of measles alone. There was no denying he and Miss O’Toole worked well together. And yet, he’d be foolish to forget that she held a portion of herself back. Foolish to hope more was growing between them than a healthy give and take of doctor to assistant. Needing to walk off his uneasy mood, he rose but she joined him in the parlor at the same moment and he sat back down. She looked tired, a bit disheveled, yet incredibly beautiful. He decided she must be glorious on the stage. Lowering herself in the seat opposite his, she shuffled around the cups on the tea service and began pouring. Her movements were elegant, graceful, but he could tell something was bothering her tonight, more so than usual. Was he pushing her too hard? Was she having regrets about agreeing to assist him? “Miss O’Toole, are you—” “I realize I know so little about you, Shane.
