He eyed her suspiciously.
“Early! What for?”
“I go to the hospital. The Rosenfeld boy is still there, you know.”
“Oh!”
But a moment later he burst out irritably:—
“That was an accident, Grace. The boy took the chance when he engaged to drive the car. I'm sorry, of course. I dream of the little devil sometimes, lying there. I'll tell you what I'll do,” he added magnanimously. “I'll stop in and talk to Wilson. He ought to have done something before this.”
“The boy's not strong enough yet. I don't think you can do anything for him, unless—”
The monstrous injustice of the thing overcame her. Palmer and she walking about, and the boy lying on his hot bed! She choked.
“Well?”
“He worries about his mother. If you could give her some money, it would help.”