The woman pocketed the two sovereigns.

"That's common sense, sir," she agreed heartily, "and I'm sure we
are very much obliged to you. If we had a decent room, and a roof
above it, you'd be heartily welcome, but as it is, this is no place
for a sick man, and those that say different don't know what they
are talking about. That's a real careful young man who's going to
take you along in the motor-car. He'll get you there safe, if any
one will."

"What I say is," her husband protested sullenly, "that we ought to
wait for the doctor's orders. I'm against seeing a poor body like
that jolted across the country in an open motor-car, in his state.
I'm not sure that it's for his good."

"And what business is it of yours, I should like to know?" the woman
demanded sharply. "You get up-stairs and begin moving the furniture
from where the rain's coming sopping in. And if so be you can
remember while you do it that this is a judgment that's come upon us,
why, so much the better. We are evil-doers, all of us, though them
as likes the easy ways generally manage to forget it."

The man retreated silently. The woman sat down upon a stool and
waited. Gerald sat opposite to her, the battered dressing-case
upon his knees. Between them was stretched the body of the
unconscious man.

"Are you used to prayer, young sir?" the woman asked.