"There's one thing I been wanting awful bad. But I ain't sure I ought to ask."
"Tell me, my child, tell me."
"I want to see her," said Gracie, unexpectedly.
"Her?"
"His wife. I got no right to ast, but I want somethin' awful to see his wife. Just once before I—I go, I want to see her."
Vandervelde felt bewildered. He had never spoken of Gracie to Marcia, or to Anne. They were so far removed from this poor little derelict that he was not sure they would understand. He said after a moment's painful reflection:
"My poor child, I will see what I can do. But if I—that is, if she—" He paused, not knowing exactly how to put his dilemma into words without wounding her. But Gracie understood.
"You mean if she won't come? That's what I want to know," said she, enigmatically. So weak was she that with the words on her lips she dropped into sudden slumber. He stood looking down upon her irresolutely. Then he tiptoed away, meeting at the door the house-physician.
"How long?" asked the lawyer, jerkily.
"Probably until morning. Or at any minute," said the doctor, indifferently. He thought it the best thing Gracie could do.