The hospital reached, the neatly-uniformed interne who came down to answer the District Nurse's inquiry, assured them that their patient was resting quietly. He even went so far as to say that possibly the fall might work good in the end.
“I only say might in a general way. If the poor creature's mental apathy has been due to an injury of the head, it may possibly be. Do you know the cause of her mental condition?” he inquired of the nurse.
The nurse gave the information desired.
“If that is so, then the second blow may neutralize the first. It is certainly an interesting case.” But at the end he assured his visitors that time only could prove what the outcome might be. “Poor Sal!” said the nurse, as they left the large building, and went quietly down the stone steps. “I wonder if it would be comforting to her to know she is an 'interesting case.' Sal was never interesting before.”
“But just think if he should be right!” said Gloria, quivering with excitement. “Wouldn't it be beautiful, just beautiful, if it should come true! It would almost make me forgive that awful man who did not mend the railing.”
“But then,” said the nurse, “unless life changes all through for Sal, it might be worse to be beaten and starved and feel conscious of it, than to be beaten and starved in a half-demented condition.”
“Oh, don't put it that way!” said Gloria.
“I could not help thinking how little you can see of what her life all these years has been—you with your young sheltered life.”
Gloria's face softened. “No; one cannot discern—that is, I mean I could not before to-day. But anything seems possible after all that has happened to-day.”
It was while Gloria was standing on her own steps, having watched the District Nurse close her door, that she caught sight of a little figure flying up the street. It was Dinney. She waited impatiently for his approach.