A thin line filed past them, grim-faced, silent. At the far end of the room, statistics in red inch-high type ran columnwise down the wall's length. She read, with a gasp in her throat:
1. Ten thousand people died from tuberculosis in the city of New
York last year.
2. Two hundred thousand people died from tuberculosis in the United
States last year.
3. Records of the Health Department show 31,631 living cases of
tuberculosis in the city of New York.
4. Every three minutes some one in the United States dies from
consumption.
"Oh, Charley, ain't it awful!"
At a desk a young man, with skin as pink as though a strong wind had whipped it into color, distributed pamphlets to the outgoing visitors—a thin streamlet of them; some cautious, some curious, some afraid.
"Come on; let's hurry out of here, Sweetness. My lung's hurting this minute."
They hurried past the desk; but the young man with the clear, pink skin reached over the heads of an intervening group, waving a long printed booklet toward the pair.
"Circular, missy?"