She looked at him, through him, past him. He didn’t know her thoughts; that door was closed to him.
“I want to see Miss Mary.”
Mary was surprised to find her patient sitting up in bed. She had wound her hair in a tight coil around her head, covering it with a heavy lace cap.
“Miss Mary, I am feeling better this morning; I don’t think I shall need you any longer.”
Mary gasped. Where was the exhausted creature of the night before, the helpless invalid?
“I’m very glad, Mrs. Garrison. Any time you send for me, I will come.” Then she took Julie’s hand, bent forward and kissed her; there was a slight quiver of the mouth.
“Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I couldn’t bear you to say anything; it’s unspeakable, good-bye.”
Floyd was waiting in the hall when Mary came down with her hat on, carrying her suitcase.
“You are not going?”
“There is nothing more for me to do here. Your wife is better; the shock will cure her.” Then she smiled at him. “I’m aching for the slums; my cradle stood there; there I learnt what life means; when I get thinking too much of myself, I go back and learn again.”