The nurse shook her head.

"Can she see any one?"

"It won't make any difference now," said the nurse, and Jimmy was led
into the room where the girl, wasted by fever and suffering, lay in a
half-comatose condition upon her narrow bed. Jimmy crossed the room and
laid his hand upon her forehead and at the touch she opened her eyes and
looked up at him. He saw that she recognized him and was trying to say
something, and he kneeled beside the bed so that his ear might be closer
to her lips.

"Jimmy," she whispered, "you are free? Tell me."

He told her briefly of what had happened. "I am so happy," she murmured.
"Oh, Jimmy, I am so happy!"

He took one of her wasted hands in his own and carried it to his lips.
"Not on the hand," she said faintly. "Just once, on the lips, before I
die."

He gathered her in his arms and lifted her face to his. "Dear little
girl," he said, "you are not going to die. It is not as bad as that."

She did not reply, but only clung to him tightly, and against his cheek
he felt her tears and a little choking sob before she relaxed, and he
laid her back again on her pillow. He thought she was dead then and he
called the nurse, but she still breathed, though her eyes were closed.
Jimmy sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and stroked her hand.