"Are you going to let me starve? Where are you?" the sick man called out querulously.
She sprang up; she had forgotten to get supper. When she took the food upstairs, Preston was dragging himself about the room. He was excited, and anxious to talk.
"Did that doctor fix me up? I don't remember seeing him in the hospital."
"He operated when you were received. He left the next day," she answered.
"It must have been a neat job. I guess I was in a pretty tough state," he mused more quietly. "How did he happen to look me up?"
"I met him accidentally in the park," she explained briefly, anxious to have done with the subject. "He offered to come back with me to see you. Perhaps," she added more bitterly, "he wanted to see what he had done."
"I suppose he knows?"
She nodded.
"Well, I can't see why he bothers around. I don't want his attentions."
As she prepared to leave the room, after pulling down the shades and opening the bed, he said apologetically: