It was eight by the office clock. To get out of her uniform and into street clothing, fifteen minutes; on the trolley, another fifteen. She would need to hurry.
But she did not meet him, after all. Miss Wardwell met her in the upper hall.
“Did you get my message?” she asked anxiously.
“What message?”
“Miss Harrison wants to see you. She has been moved to a private room.”
Sidney glanced at K.'s little watch.
“Must she see me to-night?”
“She has been waiting for hours—ever since you went to the operating-room.”
Sidney sighed, but she went to Carlotta at once. The girl's condition was puzzling the staff. There was talk of “T.R.”—which is hospital for “typhoid restrictions.” But T.R. has apathy, generally, and Carlotta was not apathetic. Sidney found her tossing restlessly on her high white bed, and put her cool hand over Carlotta's hot one.
“Did you send for me?”