'George Skinner.' She breathed it softly. 'I'd make him a good wife, by
God's gra-ace--if I could. But it's no use. I'm not responsible. But
he'll not take "No" for an answer. I used to call him "Toots." He's of
no consequence, yo' see.'

'That's in Dickens,' said Conroy, quite quickly. 'I haven't thought of
Toots for years. He was at Doctor Blimber's.'

'And so--that's my trouble,' she concluded, ever so slightly wringing
her hands. 'But I--don't you think--there's hope now?'

'Eh?' said Conroy. 'Oh yes! This is the first time I've turned my corner
without help. With your help, I should say.'

'It'll come back, though.'

'Then shall we meet it in the same way? Here's my card. Write me your
train, and we'll go together.'

'Yes. We must do that. But between times--when we want--' She looked at
her palm, the four fingers working on it. 'It's hard to give 'em up.'

'But think what we have gained already, and let me have the case to
keep.'

She shook her head, and threw her cigarette out of the window. 'Not
yet.'

'Then let's lend our cases to Nurse, and we'll get through to-day on