Explore "The Moving Finger" by Natalie Sumner Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE day nurse, Mrs. Christine Hall, the severe lines of her face showing more plainly in the strong afternoon light and her forehead puckered in a frown, watched from the bedroom window the parking of automobiles on the lawn before "Dewdrop Inn," with an ear attentively cocked to catch any sound from the bed where Craig Porter lay looking at the opposite wall with expressionless eyes. The mud-incrusted automobiles were little varied in shape or make, and the men who climbed out of them were mostly of middle age, and the seriousness of their manner as they greeted each other, or stood in groups chatting with late comers, impressed Nurse Hall. As the last one disappeared up the steps of the portico and out of her line of vision, she left the window and hurried to a closed door, but before she could turn the knob the door opened and Vera Deane stepped into the bedroom.
"I was just going to call you," exclaimed Nurse Hall. "The men seem all to have arrived."