“Have I no claim? Am I no more than an undertaker, called in to lay out that miserable woman?” Rodney almost shouted.
Cis turned toward him and raised her hand.
“I am waiting for my connection; please be quiet,” she said. “You have a claim upon my pity and help; I am giving you both.”
Rodney stared at her as she turned back to the instrument and talked for a short time to someone on the other end of the wire. Cis hung up, and came back to the middle of the room, leaning her hand on the table as if she were tired.
“You are to go to the Good Shepherd to-night,” she said. “The Sister Infirmarian says that you have not come too soon. If Nan will give you supper we will start immediately after you have eaten. I will take you there, unless you prefer to go alone.”
“I can’t go alone; I’m afraid,” Rodney groaned.
Gentle Nan went over to him as she heard his boyish cry. She began to hope that Cicely would comfort him, as she alone could do, and lead him back to God, which seemed to her preëminently Cicely’s grace.
“I don’t want any supper, but have you coffee?” Rodney asked, and Nan hurried away to make it, followed by Cis, who had no mind to linger with Rodney alone.
Joe called a taxi; the coffee was quickly made on the gas range, and drunk. Cis found herself whirling as in a dream through the streets, beside Rodney.
He groped for her hand, but Cis withheld it.