"Don't leave me!" she pleaded. And then, for the first time, Gypsy
Nan's nerve seemed to fail her. "I - oh, my God - I - I don't want
to die!" she cried out.

But a moment later, inside the hospital, as the admitting officer
began to ask questions of Rhoda Gray, Gypsy Nan had apparently
recovered her grip upon herself.

"Ah, let her alone!" she broke in. "She doesn't know me any more
than you do. She found me on the street. But she was good to me,
God bless her!"

"Your name's Charlotte Green? Yes?" The man nodded. "Where do
you live?"

"Wherever I like!" Gypsy Nan was snarling truculently now. "What's
it matter where I live? Don't you ever have any one come here
without a letter from the pastor of her church!" She pulled out the
package of banknotes. "You aren't going to get stuck. This'll see
you through whatever happens. Give me a - a private room, and" - her
voice was weakening rapidly - "and" - there came a bitter, facetious
laugh -" the best you've got." Her voice was weakening rapidly.

They carried her upstairs. She still insisted on clinging to Rhoda
Gray's hand.

"Don't leave me!" she pleaded again, as they reached the door of a
private room, and Rhoda Gray disengaged her hand gently.