“ Lady Clifford had risen, a sort of nervous expectancy in her manner. The doctor glanced at her, then turned to Esther."You may as well go home, if you like, Miss Rowe," he said. "I don't think I shall need you for anything more.""Oh, thank you, doctor!"It still wanted half an hour until the time she usually left off. For a moment it flashed upon her that there was, after all, a spark of kindliness concealed in that big, slow-moving machine, and the thought warmed and pleased her. She always wanted to like the people she worked for, it was so much jollier. ”
Alice Campbell
Biographical details
Alice Campbell, a novelist of the early 20th century, is best known for her enigmatic 1920s work Juggernaut, a narrative rich in moral complexity and psychological strain. Her prose, illustrated by passages describing medical challenges and secret collaborations, delves into themes of duty, hidden truths, and the delicate boundaries between personal longing and professional responsibility.
Through the perspective of her characters’ inner conflicts—such as the nurse Esther’s torn allegiance and the doctor’s quiet dominance—Campbell constructs suspenseful, reflective tales that remain with the reader. Her writing, distinguished by its sensitive depiction of human vulnerability, continues to offer a fascinating exploration of ethical uncertainty.
Quotes by Alice Campbell
“ You see, I didn't dare mention my awful suspicion—I couldn't! It might have ruined me for ever if I was wrong. So I did the only thing I could think of: I took the needle to that chemist and got it analysed. You know all the rest.""If only you had confided in me, Esther!""Even so it was too late to save your father; nothing would have saved him. And you quite understand that if the suspicion had proved unfounded it would have finished me as a nurse for all time!"He looked at her intently."Would that have meant so much to you?""Well, what do you think? I've got to earn my living." ”
“ To think that Holliday's inexpertness should have brought about the agony of the past half-hour! But for him she would have remained in peaceful oblivion, out of which she would have passed imperceptibly to her final sleep. These terrible moments were her last glimpses of life. In a few seconds would come utter blankness again; her last chance would be gone for saving Roger and herself. Should she make a struggle for it and die fighting? Or was it better to continue her supine pretence and quietly allow the needle to reduce her once more to a merciful torpor? ”
