terrible moment he thought of that theory of his which referred to a
disappointment in love. Was she going to have the unbelievable
cruelty to tell him about it?

"I have to talk to somebody," she said simply. "And I came to you,
because you've worked on a newspaper, and you have had a lot of
experience. It's--a matter of ethics. But really it's a matter of
life and death."

He felt most horribly humble before her, and he hated the lie,
except that it had brought her to him. There was something so direct
and childlike about her. The very way she drew a chair in front of
him, and proceeded, talking rather fast, to lay the matter before
him, touched him profoundly. He felt, somehow, incredibly old and
experienced.

And then, after all that, to fail her!

"You see how it is," she finished. "I can't go to the Staff, and
they wouldn't do anything if I did--except possibly put me out.
Because a nurse really only follows orders. And--I've got to stay,
if I can. And Doctor Willie doesn't believe in an operation and
won't see that he's dying. And everybody at home thinks he is right,
because--well," she added hastily, "he's been right a good many
times."

He listened attentively. His record, you remember, was his own way
some ninety-seven per cent of the time, and at first he would not
believe that this was going to be the three per cent, or a part of
it.