He sat down on the chair beside the counter, and her mind travelled miles before he spoke.
“Miss Bunner, the best thing you can do is to let me get a bed for your sister at St. Luke's.”
“The hospital?”
“Come now, you're above that sort of prejudice, aren't you?” The doctor spoke in the tone of one who coaxes a spoiled child. “I know how devoted you are—but Mrs. Ramy can be much better cared for there than here. You really haven't time to look after her and attend to your business as well. There'll be no expense, you understand—”
Ann Eliza made no answer. “You think my sister's going to be sick a good while, then?” she asked.
“Well, yes—possibly.”
“You think she's very sick?”
“Well, yes. She's very sick.”
His face had grown still graver; he sat there as though he had never known what it was to hurry.
Ann Eliza continued to separate the pearl and horn buttons. Suddenly she lifted her eyes and looked at him. “Is she going to die?”