It will be hard for me to go back to him, knowing as I do
now that he doesn't want me. I shall always feel that I am in his way.
And Hilda," she added after a pause, "she will hate me."
Joan looked at the white patient face and was silent. What would be the
use of senseless contradiction. The woman knew. It would only seem an
added stab of mockery. She knelt beside the bed, and took the thin hands
in hers.
"I think God must want you very badly," she said, "or He wouldn't have
laid so heavy a cross upon you. You will come?"
The woman did not answer in words. The big tears were rolling down her
cheeks. There was no paint to mingle with and mar them. She drew the
little metal box from under the pillow and gave it into Joan's hands.
Joan crept out softly from the room.
The nurse was standing by the window. She turned sharply on Joan's
entrance. Joan slipped the box into her hands.
The nurse raised the lid. "What a fool I've been," she said. "I never
thought of that."
She held out a large strong hand and gave Joan a longish grip.
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