K. spent all of the evening of that day with Wilson. He was not to go for

Joe until eleven o'clock. The injured man's vitality was standing him in

good stead. He had asked for Sidney and she was at his bedside. Dr. Ed

had gone.

"I'm going, Max. The office is full, they tell me," he said, bending over

the bed. "I'll come in later, and if they'll make me a shakedown, I'll

stay with you to-night."

The answer was faint, broken but distinct. "Get some sleep...I've been a

poor stick...try to do better--" His roving eyes fell on the dog collar on

the stand. He smiled, "Good old Bob!" he said, and put his hand over Dr.

Ed's, as it lay on the bed.

K. found Sidney in the room, not sitting, but standing by the window. The

sick man was dozing. One shaded light burned in a far corner. She turned

slowly and met his eyes. It seemed to K. that she looked at him as if she

had never really seen him before, and he was right. Readjustments are

always difficult.

Sidney was trying to reconcile the K. she had known so well with this new

K., no longer obscure, although still shabby, whose height had suddenly

become presence, whose quiet was the quiet of infinite power.

She was suddenly shy of him, as he stood looking down at her. He saw the

gleam of her engagement ring on her finger. It seemed almost defiant. As

though she had meant by wearing it to emphasize her belief in her lover.

They did not speak beyond their greeting, until he had gone over the

record. Then:-"We can't talk here. I want to talk to you, K."

He led the way into the corridor. It was very dim. Far away was the night

nurse's desk, with its lamp, its annunciator, its pile of records. The

passage floor reflected the light on glistening boards.

"I have been thinking until I am almost crazy, K. And now I know how it

happened. It was Joe."

"The principal thing is, not how it happened, but that he is going to get

well, Sidney."

She stood looking down, twisting her ring around her finger.

"Is Joe in any danger?"

"We are going to get him away to-night. He wants to go to Cuba. He'll get

off safely, I think."

"WE are going to get him away! YOU are, you mean. You shoulder all our

troubles, K., as if they were your own."




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