“It is you who are kind,” protested Sister Anne, “to take pity on me.”
“Pity on you!” laughed Sam. “You can't pity a person who can do more with a smile than old man Flagg can do with all his millions. Now,” he demanded in happy anticipation, “where are we to meet?”
“That's it,” said Sister Anne. “Where are we to meet?”
“Let it be at the Grand Central Station. The day can't begin too soon,” said Sam; “and before then telephone me what theatre and restaurants you want and I'll reserve seats and tables. Oh,” exclaimed Sam joyfully, “it will be a wonderful day—a wonderful day!”
Sister Anne looked at him curiously and, so, it seemed, a little wistfully. She held out her hand.
“I must go back to my duties,” she said. “Good-by.”
“Not good-by,” said Sam heartily, “only until Saturday—and my name's Sam Ward and my address is the city room of the REPUBLIC. What's your name?”
“Sister Anne,” said the girl. “In the nursing order to which I belong we have no last names.”
“So,” asked Sam, “I'll call you Sister Anne?”
“No; just Sister,” said the girl.