"It never did. Keep it, Isabel."
"Thank you," she said, calmly, putting it back, but on the middle finger. "I must go now. I hope you'll get along all right."
"Wait just a minute, please." He rang a bell that was on a table within his reach, and the nurse came in. "Please bring me my violin."
Isabel turned to the door but was held back by a peremptory command.
"Wait!"
"Here," he cried shrilly, offering Isabel the violin. "Take this, too!"
"What for?" she asked, curiously. "I can't play."
"Nevertheless, it belongs to you. Keep it, as a souvenir!"
Holding the violin awkwardly, Isabel backed out of the room, the nurse following her and closing the door. The nurse was a young woman who had not sacrificed her normal human sympathy to her chosen work, but had managed, happily, to combine the two. She watched Isabel disdainfully as she went down-stairs, very briskly for one with a sprained ankle.
"God!" said Allison, aloud. "Oh, God in Heaven!"
Then the nurse turned away in pity, for behind the closed door she heard a grown man sobbing like a hurt child.