The Creole had been neither deaf nor idle. Hospital? Then those children in Prieur street had told him right. He softly changed his coat and shoes. As the physician looked over the top of the desk Narcisse’s silent form, just here at the left, but out of the range of vision, passed through the door and went downstairs with the noiselessness of a moonbeam.
Mary explained the location and arrangement of her residence.
“Yes,” she said, “that’s the way your clerk must have overlooked us. We live behind—down the alleyway.”
“Well, at any rate, madam,” said the Doctor, “you are here now, and before you go I want to”— He drew out his pocket-book.
There was a quick gesture of remonstrance and a look of pleading.
“No, no, Doctor, please don’t! please don’t! Give my poor husband one more chance; don’t make me take that. I don’t refuse it for pride’s sake!”
“I don’t know about that,” he replied; “why do you do it?”
“For his sake, Doctor. I know just as well what he’d say—we’ve no right to take it anyhow. We don’t know when we could pay it back.” Her head sank. She wiped a tear from her hand.
“Why, I don’t care if you never pay it back!” The Doctor reddened angrily.