"Stay, you will hurt it," said Dr. Arundel tenderly; "no one will take it away; do not press it so."
She instantly desisted, but opened her eyes and gazed at his face in a wild kind of way.
"You are better now," he said soothingly.
"Oh, yes!" she answered, trying to struggle to her feet. "Let me go on."
"Where is your home? You are not fit to be out, my dear," said the kind doctor in his fatherly manner, gently preventing her rising.
"No; I am dying," she said, "dying of starvation!"
The by-standers who could hear this looked appalled, and several hands were put in pockets to draw out some money.
"You are ill, my dear," he said. "Where is your home?"
"I have no home," she answered in a low tone. "I was taking her to the river—when—I can't remember," she said, looking bewildered.
"Were you going to the workhouse?" he asked, not hearing.