"Because," said Gypsy Nan, "if I've got a chance at all, I'd finish
it for keeps if a doctor came here. I - I'd rather go out this way
than in that horrible thing they call the 'chair.' Oh, my God,
don't you understand that! I've seen pictures of it! It's a
horrible thing - a horrible thing - horrible!"

"Nan" - Rhoda Gray steadied her voice - you re delirious. You do
not know what you are saying. There isn't any horrible thing to
frighten you. Now you just lie quietly here. I'll only be a few
minutes, and -" She stopped abruptly as her wrists were suddenly
imprisoned in a frantic grip.

"You swore it!" Gypsy Nan was whispering feverishly. "You swore
it! They say the White Moll never snitched. That's the one chance
I've got, and I'm going to take it. I'm not delirious - not yet.
I wish to God it was nothing more than that! Look!"

With a low, startled cry, Rhoda Gray was on her feet. Gypsy Nan
was gone. A sweep of the woman's hand, and the spectacles were off,
the gray-streaked hair a tangled wig upon the pillow - and Rhoda Gray
found herself staring in a numbed sort of way at a dark-haired woman
who could not have been more than thirty, but whose face, with its
streaks of grime and dirt, looked grotesquely and incongruously old.


II. SEVEN--THREE--NINE

For a moment neither spoke, then Gypsy Nan broke the silence with
a bitter laugh. She threw back the bedclothes, and, gripping at