The Jew doctor, who had admitted her, stood beside the tall man whose left shoulder was cocked at a queer angle.
“Good bit, Dr. Sterling. When she came in....” he slid off into medical terms and Lil Parkins’ face took on one of its flashes of sudden intensity and Cub Sterling’s responded. His response was slow and he was tired, but his eyes were gorgeous and his hands were soothing.
“Pretty tired, weren’t you?”
The question was put in the voice one used with a social equal and Lil Parkins knew she really liked him. He recognized that she wasn’t just “another free patient.”
“Has your name come back?”
He had straightened up and stood at the foot of her bed looking kindly into her eyes. With a supreme effort, Lil knew that she must manage to act, really act!
She shook her head slowly, and her face faded blank again.
“It will,” he said confidently. “What you needed was rest. How did you get that scar?”
He pointed to one halfway up her left forearm and Lil, mesmerized by his eyes, actually told the truth.
“In the circus. Trapeze work.”