es?" The man nodded. "Where do you live?"

"Wherever I like!" Gypsy Nan was snarling truculently now. "What's it
matter where I live? Don't you ever have any one come here without a
letter from the pastor of her church!" She pulled out the package of
banknotes. "You aren't going to get stuck. This'll see you through
whatever happens. Give me a--a private room, and"--her voice was
weakening rapidly--"and"--there came a bitter, facetious laugh--"the
best you've got." Her voice was weakening rapidly.

They carried her upstairs. She still insisted on clinging to Rhoda
Gray's hand.

"Don't leave me!" she pleaded again, as they reached the door of a
private room, and Rhoda Gray disengaged her hand gently.

"I'll stay outside here," Rhoda Gray promised. "I won't go away without
seeing you again."

Rhoda Gray sat down on a settee in the hall. She glanced at her wrist
watch. It was five minutes of eleven. Doctors and nurses came and went
from the room. Then a great quiet seemed to settle down around her. A
half hour passed. A doctor went into the room, and presently came out
again. She intercepted him as he came along the corridor.

He shook his head.

She did not understand his technical explanation. There was something
about a clot and blood stoppage. But as she resumed her seat, she
understood very fully that the end was near. The woman was resting
quietly now, the doctor had said, but if she, Rhoda Gray, cared to wait,
she could see the other before leaving the hospital.

And so she waited. She had promised Gypsy Nan she would.

The minutes dragged along. A quarter of an hour passed. Still another.
Midnight came. Fifteen minutes more went by, and then a nurse came out
of the room, and, standing by the door, beckoned to Rhoda Gray.

"She is asking for you," the nurse said. "Please do not stay more than
a few minutes. I shall be outside here, and if you notice the slightest
change, call me instantly."

Rhoda Gray nodded.

"I understand," she said.

The door closed softly behind her. She was smiling cheerily as she
crossed the room and bent over Gypsy Nan.

The woman stretched out her hand.

"The White Moll!" she whispered. "He told the truth, that bull
did--straight as they make 'em, and--"

"Don't try to talk," Rhoda Gray interrupted gently. "Wait until you are
a little stronger."

"Stronger!" Gypsy Nan shook her head. "Don't try to kid me! I know. They
told me. I'd have known it anyway. I'm going out."