“I’m sorry, Miss Merriweather. The cigarette is forbidden. Hospitals are pure places.”
“Rats! Ever look in the trash cans in a Nurses’ Home?”
“No, of course not, Sophie!”
She lay silent a minute and wiggled her toes. Then her voice grew small, and she said:
“Sounds like you’ve been very nice to me. Darned nice! But you have to know sometime and I guess you’d better know now that I haven’t any money to pay you. I’m really a waif.”
Her eyes blacked. She finished, “Respectable though ... very!”
“But you’re too loquacious! And you are pretty sick. Shut up and go to sleep!”
“How sick?”
“I told you I’d tell you tomorrow! As for your bills, they are being taken care of, so don’t worry.”
The mouth drew to a line, she demanded: