ll print their names in black letters; a few others--only
reporters know how few--would as soon place themselves in the hands of a
dentist.

"A reporter from the REPUBLIC," repeated Sam.

"But why ask ME?" demanded Sister Anne.

Sam could see no reason for her question; in extenuation and explanation
he glanced at her uniform.

"I thought you were at work here," he said simply. "I beg your pardon."

He stepped aside as though he meant to leave her. In giving that
impression he was distinctly dishonest.

"There was no other reason," persisted Sister Anne. "I mean for speaking
to me?"

The reason for speaking to her was so obvious that Sam wondered whether
this could be the height of innocence or the most banal coquetry. The
hostile look in the eyes of the lady proved it could not be coquetry.

"I am sorry," said Sam. "I mistook you for one of the nurses here; and,
as you didn't seem busy, I thought you might give me some statistics
about the Home not really statistics, you know, but local color."

Sister Anne returned his look with one as steady as his own. Apparently
she was weighing his statement. She seemed to disbelieve it. Inwardly
he was asking himself what could be the dark secret in the past of this
young woman that at the mere approach of a reporter--even of such a
nice-looking reporter as himself--she should shake and shudder. "If
that's what you really want to know," said Sister Anne doubtfully, "I'll
try and help you; but," she added, looking at him as one who issues an
ultimatum, "you must not say anything about me!"

Sam knew that a woman of the self-advertising, club-organizing class
will always say that to a reporter at the time she gives him her card so
that he can spell her name correctly; but Sam recognized that this young
woman meant it. Besides, what was there that he could write about her?
Much as he might like to do so, he could not begin his story with: "The
Flagg Home for Convalescents is also the home of the most beautiful
of all living women." No copy editor would let that get by him. So, as
there was nothing to say that he would be allowed to say, he promised to
say nothing. Sister Anne smiled; and it seemed to Sam that she smiled,
not because his promise had set her mind at ease, but because the
promise amused her. Sam wondered why.

Sister Anne fell into step beside him and led him through the wards of
the hospital. He found that it existed for and revolved entirely about
one pe