"I am obliged to tell you," said Dr. Mulbridge, "that I don't disapprove
of it."

"I am detaining you," said Grace. "I beg your pardon. I was curious to
know how far superstition and persecution can go in our day." If the
epithets were not very accurate, she used them with a woman's
effectiveness, and her intention made them descriptive. "Good-day," she
added, and she made a movement toward the door, from which Dr. Mulbridge
retired. But she did not open the door. Instead, she sank into the chair
which stood in the corner, and passed her hand over her forehead, as if
she were giddy.

Dr. Mulbridge's finger was instantly on her wrist. "Are you faint?"

"No, no!" she gasped, pulling her hand away. "I am perfectly well." Then
she was silent for a time before she added by a supreme effort, "I have
no right to endanger another's life, through any miserable pride, and I
never will. Mrs. Maynard needs greater experience than mine, and she must
have it. I can't justify myself in the delay and uncertainty of sending
to Boston. I relinquish the case. I give it to you. And I will nurse her
under your direction, obediently, conscientiously. Oh!" she cried, at his
failure to make any immediate response, "surely you won't refuse to take
the case!"

"I won't refuse," he said, with an effect of difficult concession. "I
will come. I will drive over at once, after dinner."

She rose now, and put her hand on the door-latch. "Do you object to my
nursing your patient? She is an old school friend. But I could yield that
point too, if"--