"And remember, that if I did not do the best, I did not do the worst; that I am going away when I might stay," and she knew, looking back on her youth and trustfulness, how much truth there might have been in those words. She clasped her hands to her head trying to think. The throbbing in her head began to be followed by horrid sensations of things around going far away to an immeasurable distance, and returning again rapidly and horribly enlarged.
"Dangerously ill!" she repeated. "Dying, perhaps, alone in hotel rooms with none but paid attendance."
Her throat became choked at thought of it. "Father in heaven," she cried, her hands clasped together, "help me to help him! Don't let him suffer!" she pleaded. "I promised to help him always. Help me to keep my promise!"
Outside, the controversy between the maid at the door and some other was growing louder, and
a demanding, forceful, insolent voice was insisting upon seeing Katrine "immejit," as the frightened French girl came back to the room in a panic of fear.
"A gentleman to see you, mademoiselle."
"I can see no one," Katrine answered, briefly, her face averted.
"He says his business is most important."
"Who is it, Marcelle?" she asked.