"Can we save her, Signor Dottore?" It was the nun who spoke.
"We must," the doctor answered, with quiet emphasis.
He stooped and lifted in his hand one of the disordered tresses. It was neither blonde nor auburn, but pure gold, the lovely gold that sometimes shines in the heart of the sunset. Even the nun felt the beauty of it.
"Did you ever see such hair as that?" she asked.
He laid the tress back upon the pillow, very gently, and, looking into the quiet eyes of the Sister, he answered:
"Never but once."