"It's all right," he said. "How's she seem?"

Rhoda Gray shook her head.

A passer-by stopped, asked what was the matter - and lingered
curiously. Another, and another, did the same. A little crowd
collected. The officer kept them back. Came then the strident
clang of a gong and the rapid beat of horses' hoofs. A
white-coated figure jumped from the ambulance, pushed his way
forward, and bent over the form in Rhoda Gray's lap. A moment more,
and they were carrying Gypsy Nan to the ambulance.

Rhoda Gray spoke to the officer:

"I think perhaps I had better go with her."

"Sure!" said the officer.

She caught snatches of the officer's words, as he made a report to
the doctor:

Found her here in the street...Charlotte Green...nothing else...the
White Moll, straight as God makes 'em...she'll see the woman through."
He turned to Rhoda Gray. "You can get in there with them, miss."

It took possibly ten minutes to reach the hospital, but, before that
time, Gypsy Nan, responding in a measure to stimulants, had regained
consciousness. She insisted on clinging to Rhoda Gray's hand as they
carried in the stretcher.