She was overjoyed to see
Allison sitting up, but, observing that she was not especially needed,
invented a plausible errand and said good-bye, promising to come the
next day.
"Nice girl," remarked Doctor Jack, shuffling the cards for Allison.
"Mighty nice girl."
"My future wife," answered Allison, proudly, forgetting his promise.
"More good business. You'd be a brute if you didn't save that hand for
her. She's entitled to the best that you can give her."
"And she shall have it," returned Allison.
Doctor Jack's quick ears noted a new determination in the voice, that
only a few hours before had been weak and wavering, and he nodded his
satisfaction across the card table.
That night, while Allison slept soundly, and the nurse also, having been
told that she was off duty until called, the young man recklessly burned
gas in the next room, with pencil and paper before him. First, he
carefully considered the man with whom he had to deal, then mapped out a
line of treatment, complete to the last detail.
"There," he said to himself, "by that we stand or fall."
The clocks struck three, but the young man still sat there, oblivious to
his surroundings, or to the fact that even strong and healthy people
occasionally need a little sleep.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296