A group of nurses hung around the nurse's station like hens around the feeding treadle, nattering away. That came to an abrupt stop as they spotted Frankie on her way out. Almost every last one of them turned their backs, pretending they hadn't seen her. They had, of course. There were only two of them who looked over at Frankie. They didn't engage in a deep conversation, but at least they had the decency to say goodbye. It was strange, Frankie thought. They hadn't treated her that way yesterday, so she could only assume they had found out who she was. When people, especially the working class, people who lived paycheck to paycheck, found out who she was - or more importantly the money she had, they changed. Treated her differently. It wasn't the first time something like this had occurred
