"You are in the best hands we have to
give you," he said. "You are to trust everything to those hands.
Good-night. I'll see you in the morning."
"Good-night, dear," whispered Mrs. Burns, bending for an instant over
the bed.
"Oh you angels!" murmured the girl as they left her, her eyes following
them.
* * * * *
It was ten days later, in the middle of a wonderful night in early May,
that Miss Arden, beginning to be sure that the case which had interested
her so much was going to give her a hard time before it should be
through, listened to words which roused in her deeper wonder than she
had yet felt for the most unusual patient she had had in a long time.
Although there was as yet nothing that could be called real delirium, a
tendency to talk in a light-headed sort of way was becoming noticeable.
Sitting by the window, the one light in the room deeply shaded, she
heard the voice suddenly say:
"This evens things up a little, doesn't it? I know a little
more about it now--you must realize that, if you are keeping
track of me--and I know you are--you would--even from another
world. Things aren't fair--they aren't. That you should have
to suffer all you did, to bring you to that pass--while I--But
I know a good deal about it now--really I do. And I'm going to
know more. I didn't sell a single book to-day. You had lots of
such days, didn't you?
Poor--pale--tired--heartsick--heartbroken girl!"
A little mirthless laugh sounded from the bed.
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