"I am sorry, Mrs. Jones," he replied, approaching her. "There are so many demands upon my time that——"
"I know," a little impatiently; "but now that you are here please tell me how I am this morning."
"How do you feel?"
"I do not suffer, but it takes more morphine to quiet the pain. Janet has used the hypodermic four times since midnight," with a glance at the gray-robed nurse who stood silently by the table.
The doctor nodded, thoughtfully looking down her. There was small evidence of illness in her appearance, but he knew that her hours were numbered and that the dread disease that had fastened upon her was creeping on with ever increasing activity. She knew it, too, and smiled a grim little smile as she added: "How long can I last, at this rate?"
"Do not anticipate, my dear," he answered gravely. "Let us do all that may be done, and——"
"I must know!" she retorted. "I have certain important arrangements to make that must not be needlessly delayed."
"I can understand that, Mrs. Jones."
"Then tell me frankly, how long have I to live?"
"Perhaps a month; possibly less; but——"