Lucky for K. Le Moyne that the moon no longer shone on the low gray
doorstep, that Sidney's mind had traveled far away to shining floors and
rows of white beds. "Life--in the raw," Dr. Ed had said that other
afternoon. Closer to her than the hospital was life in the raw that night.

So, even here, on this quiet street in this distant city, there was to be
no peace. Max Wilson just across the way! It--it was ironic. Was there
no place where a man could lose himself? He would have to move on again,
of course.

But that, it seemed, was just what he could not do. For:

"I want to ask you to do something, and I hope you'll be quite frank," said
Sidney.

"Anything that I can do--"

"It's this. If you are comfortable, and--and like the room and all that, I
wish you'd stay." She hurried on: "If I could feel that mother had a
dependable person like you in the house, it would all be easier."

Dependable! That stung.

"But--forgive my asking; I'm really interested--can your mother manage?
You'll get practically no money during your training."

"I've thought of that. A friend of mine, Christine Lorenz, is going to be
married. Her people are wealthy, but she'll have nothing but what Palmer
makes. She'd like to have the parlor and the sitting room behind. They
wouldn't interfere with you at all," she added hastily. "Christine's father