The little man’s mouth gave way to strange twistings, and he answered grudgingly, “Well, I had a story to give him.”
Morning took a room at the Armory, refusing a loan from the Doctor. “I’ll have it shortly—plenty, I think. I’ll lie up there until I hear from Noyes. I may hurry East——”
The process was not clear exactly, but the old story of Mio Amigo had given him a terror of borrowing. The Armory was nearby. It was clean and cheap. This little decision of choosing the Armory, a result of Mio Amigo, too, is the most important so far.... The Doctor went with him. The two were hushed and sick with things to say. Nevin felt he was losing the throb of great service; that he could not hold it all after this power-house of a man went his way. It was not only Morning, but Morning was attached to the large, quiet doings and seeings of the stranger named Duke Fallows.
Morning loved the Doctor. Nevin did not tower; Nevin was instantly in his comprehension. Their throats tightened.... Nevin saw him to the light little room, and said as he was leaving:
“I’ve been all over Chinatown, looking up a formula for that wound that won’t heal. It’s this—full directions inclosed. You’ll have to get settled before you try it out.”
He disappeared saying he would be back. Morning put the envelope in a wallet, which he had carried afield.... It was not yet two in the afternoon. There was a timorous rap at the door. Morning’s head dropped over drowsily. The door opened just a little and a voice said:
“Is there a sick American soldier in here?”
It was low and timorous like the tapping, but there was a laugh in it, and something that drove the wildness out of his heart.
“Yes,” he said.
“And may I come in?”