a creased stomach and soft pale lips. As he pressed himself into the seat
facing her she noticed that he was dressed in black broadcloth, with a
soiled white tie.

"Husband's pretty bad this morning, is he?"

"Yes."

"Dear, dear! Now that's terribly distressing, ain't it?" An apostolic
smile revealed his gold-filled teeth.

"Of course you know there's no sech thing as sickness. Ain't that a lovely
thought? Death itself is but a deloosion of our grosser senses. On'y lay
yourself open to the influx of the sperrit, submit yourself passively to
the action of the divine force, and disease and dissolution will cease to
exist for you. If you could indooce your husband to read this little
pamphlet--"

The faces about her again grew indistinct. She had a vague recollection of
hearing the motherly lady and the parent of the freckled child ardently
disputing the relative advantages of trying several medicines at once, or
of taking each in turn; the motherly lady maintaining that the competitive
system saved time; the other objecting that you couldn't tell which remedy
had effected the cure; their voices went on and on, like bell-buoys
droning through a fog.... The porter came up now and then with questions
that she did not understand, but that somehow she must have answered since
he went away again without repeating them; every two hours the motherly
lady reminded her that her husband ought to have his drops; people left
the car and others replaced them...