"Certainly not," declared he earnestly. "Of course, a charity patient can't have a room to himself. But that's no disadvantage."
"How much is a room?"
"The cheapest are ten dollars a week. That includes private attendance—a little better nursing than the public patients get—perhaps. But, really—Miss Sackville——"
"He must have a room," said Susan.
"You are sure you can afford it? The difference isn't——"
"He must have a room." She held out a ten-dollar bill—ten dollars of the eleven dollars and eighty cents. "This'll pay for the first week. You fix it, won't you?"
Young Doctor Hamilton hesitatingly took the money. "You are quite, quite sure, Miss Sackville?—Quite sure you can afford this extravagance—for it is an extravagance."
"He must have the best we can afford," evaded she.
She waited in the office while Hamilton went up. When he came down after perhaps half an hour, he had an air of cheerfulness. "Everything going nicely," said he.
Susan's violet-gray eyes gazed straight into his brown eyes; and the brown eyes dropped. "You are not telling me the truth," said she.