“Did you wish me for anything?” he asked, after the rather forced greeting.
“If you feel able. There is a girl at the Woman's Hospital who wants to see you.”
“Who is it?”
“It is the girl you saw on the street the other afternoon; she said she had spoken to you.”
“She promised to come to the mission.”
“She couldn't. I met the poor thing the same afternoon. She looked so aimless and forlorn that, though I did not remember her at first, I thought she might be ill, and spoke to her, and asked her what was the matter. At first she said nothing except that she was out of work and felt miserable; but the next moment she broke down completely, and said she hadn't a friend in the world.”
“Poor thing!” said the priest, with a pang of self-reproach.
“There was nothing to do but to take her to the hospital, and there she has been.”
“Is she very ill?”
“She may live, the house surgeon says. But she was very weak for such a trial.”