"Where is Norah, Moleskin?" I cried. "Tell me what that woman said. I'm sick of waiting day after day. What did Gourock Ellen tell you, Joe?"
"I saw Norah Ryan, too," was Moleskin's answer.
"Thank you, Moleskin!" I cried impetuously. "You're a real good sort——"
A look at Joe's face damped my enthusiasm. Why the agitation and faltering voice? Presentiments of bad tidings filled my mind and my voice trembled as I put the next question.
"Where did you see her, Joe?" I asked.
"In Gourock Ellen's house."
"In that woman's house!" I gasped involuntarily, for I had not rid myself of the fugitive disgust with which I had regarded that woman when first I met her. "That's not the house for Norah! What took her there?"
"Gourock Ellen found Norah lyin' on the streets hurted because some hooligans treated her shameful," said Joe, in a low and almost inaudible voice. "For the last six weeks she has watched over your girl, day and night, when there was not another friend to help her in all the world. And now Norah Ryan is for death. She'll not live another twenty-four hours!"
To me existence has meant succeeding reconciliations to new misfortunes, and now the greatest misfortune had happened. Moleskin's words cut through my heart as a whiplash cuts through the naked flesh. Fate, chance, and the gods were against me, and the spine of life was almost broken.