"Beat it, Max!" he said to the driver.
"What hospital?" I called after him.
"Saint Luke's!" he shouted, as they gathered speed.
"You had better take her home now," I suggested to Mr. Shultz. "I am going to the hospital."
"So am I," said the girl. "Tell mother," she directed at the German, as she started for the gate.
"You'd better not go," I remonstrated. "I'll let you know everything as soon as I hear."
She paid not the slightest attention. When we reached the street she stopped on the wrong corner waiting for a car that would have taken her away from, instead of toward, the hospital.
"You can't go down-town like this!" I said, making a last effort. "Look at your dress!" and I pointed to the front of her gown—a bright crimson under the electric light.
She looked down at herself and shuddered.
"I'll go if it's the last thing I do," she said. "You can save your breath."