Helen keeps her eyes fixed on the handle of the cracked wash-pitcher.
The physician looks at her curiously for a moment. After a little he says:
"Have you no friends?"
"None;" without ceasing to study the cracked pitcher. As usual, the woman leaves no chance for further questions.
As he rises to go, the physician says gravely:
"I think if you could force yourself to arouse, you could throw off this—this—disease that is sapping your vitality. It is more a disease of the mind, I think, than the body."
"Doubtless."
The physician says:
"Well, good-day," lingering a moment longer.
"Good-day," from the bed.