tercation at the door. Her apathy toward life was great. She was lying
on the borderland, looking over and longing to go where all her dear
ones had gone. It wearied her inexpressibly that they all would insist
on doing things to call her back.

"Is your name Brentwood?" asked Gila, in the sharp, high key so alien to
a hospital.

Bonnie recalled her spirit to this world and focused her gaze on the
girl as if to try and recall where she had ever met her. Bonnie's
abundant hair was spread out over the pillow, as the nurse had just
prepared to brush it. It fell in long, rich waves of brightness and
fascinating little rings of gold about her face. Gila stared at it
jealously, as if it were something that had been stolen from her. Her
own hair, cloudy and dreamy, and made much of with all that skill and
care could do, was pitiful beside this wonderful gold mane with red and
purple shadows in its depths, and ripples and curls at the ends.
Wonderful hair!

The face of the girl on the pillow was perfect in form and feature.
Regular, delicate, refined, and lovely! Gila knew it would be counted
rarely beautiful, and she was furious! How had that upstart of a college
boy dared to send her here to see a beauty! What had he meant by it?

By this time the girl on the bed had summoned her soul back to earth for
the nonce, and answered in a cool, little tone of distance, as she might
have spoken to her employer, perhaps; or, in other circumstances, to the
stranger begging for work on her door-sill--Bonnie was a lady
anywhere--"Yes, I am Miss Brentwood."

There was no noticeable emphasis on the "Miss," but Gila felt that the
pauper had arisen and put herself on the same level with her, and she
was furious.

"Well, I've brought you a few things!" declared Gila, in a most
offensive tone. "Paul Courtland asked me to come and see what I could do
for you." She swung her moleskin trappings about and pointed to the
box. "I don't believe in giving money, not often," she declared, with a
tilt of her nasty little chin that suddenly seemed to curve out in a
hateful, Satanic point, "but I don't mind giving a little lift in other
ways to persons who are truly worthy, you know. I've brought you a few
evening dresses that I'm done with. It may help you to get a position
playing for the movies, perhaps; or if you don't know rag-time, perhaps
you might act--they'll take almost anybody, I understand, if they have
good clothes. Besides, I'm going t