There was a recess, and I hurried out, meaning to slip round to Joe Lane's for a moment to find out how he was. I'd seen the doctor in the morning and he said his patient had passed a good night and that Miss Rainey was still there. “I think she's going to stay,” he added, and smiled and shook hands with me.
Joe's old darkey cook let me in, and, after a moment, came to say I might go into Mr. Lane's room; Mr. Lane wanted to see me.
Joe was lying very flat on his back, but with his face turned toward the door, and beside him sat Laura Rainey, their thin hands clasped together. I stopped on the threshold with the door half opened.
“Come in,” said Joe weakly. “Hector made it, I'm sure.”
“Yes,” I answered, and in earnest. “He's a great man.”
Joe's face quivered with a pain that did not come from his hurt. “Oh, it's knowing that, that makes me feel like such a scoundrel,” he said. “I suppose you've come to congratulate me.”
“Yes,” I said, “the doctor says it's a wonderful case, and that you're one of the lucky ones with a charmed life, thank God!”
Joe smiled sadly at Miss Rainey. “He hasn't heard,” he said. Then she gave me her left hand, aot relinquishing Joe's with her right.
“We were married this morning,” she said, “just after the convention began.”
The tears came into Joe's eyes as she spoke. “It's a shame, isn't it?” he said to me. “You must see it so. And I the kind of man I am, the town drunkard—”