stly. "Of course, a charity
patient can't have a room to himself. But that's no disadvantage."

"How much is a room?"

"The cheapest are ten dollars a week. That includes private
attendance--a little better nursing than the public patients
get--perhaps. But, really--Miss Sackville----"

"He must have a room," said Susan.

"You are sure you can afford it? The difference isn't----"

"He must have a room." She held out a ten-dollar bill--ten
dollars of the eleven dollars and eighty cents. "This'll pay for
the first week. You fix it, won't you?"

Young Doctor Hamilton hesitatingly took the money. "You are
quite, quite sure, Miss Sackville?--Quite sure you can afford
this extravagance--for it is an extravagance."

"He must have the best we can afford," evaded she.

She waited in the office while Hamilton went up. When he came
down after perhaps half an hour, he had an air of cheerfulness.
"Everything going nicely," said he.

Susan's violet-gray eyes gazed straight into his brown eyes; and
the brown eyes dropped. "You are not telling me the truth," said she.

"I'm not denying he's a very sick man," protested Hamilton.

"Is he----"

She could not pronounce the word.

"Nothing like that--believe me, nothing. He has the chances all with him."

And Susan tried to believe. "He will have a room?"

"He has a room. That's why I was so long. And I'm glad he
has--for, to be perfectly honest, the attendance--not the
treatment, but the attendance--is much better for private
patients."

Susan was looking at the floor. Presently she drew a long
breath, rose. "Well, I must be going," said she. And she went to
the street, he accompanying her.

"If you're going back to the hotel," said he, "I'm walking that way."

"No, I've got to go this way," replied she, looking up Elm Street.

He saw she wished to be alone, and left her with the promise to
see Burlingham again that afternoon and let her know at the
hotel how he was getting on. He went east, she north. At the
first corner she stopped, glanced back to make sure he was not
following. From her bosom she drew four business cards. She had
taken the papers from the pockets of Burlingham's clothes and
from the drawer of the table in his room, to put them all
together for safety; she had found these cards, the addresses
of theatrical agents. As she looked at them, she remembered
Burlingham's having said that Blynn--Maurice Blynn, at Vine and
Ninth