Sam looked at her--but, finding that to do so made speech
difficult, looked hurriedly away. He admitted to himself that
it was one of those occasions, only too frequent with him,
when his indignant sympathy was heightened by the fact that
"the woman. was very fair." He conceded that. He was not
going to pretend to himself that he was not prejudiced by the
outrageous beauty of Sister Anne, by the assault upon his
feelings made by her uniform--made by the appeal of her
profession, the gentlest and most gracious of all
professions. He was honestly disturbed that this young girl
should devote her life to the service of selfish sick people.

"If you do it because you must live, then it can easily be
arranged; for there are other ways of earning a living."

The girl looked at him quickly, but he was quite sincere--and
again she smiled.

"Now what would you suggest?" she asked. "You see," she said,
"I have no one to advise me--no man of my own age. I have no
brothers to go to. I have a father, but it was his idea that
I should come here; and so I doubt if he would approve of my
changing to any other work. Your own work must make you
acquainted with many women who earn their own living. Maybe
you could advise me?"

Sam did not at once answer. He was calculating hastily how
far his salary would go toward supporting a wife. He was
trying to remember which of the men in the office were