Marlow. "She's curable. But she
wouldn't get more than a week's salary with her discharge, I'm afraid.
Old Saint Peter isn't in this business for his health."
"Or for any one else's," the girl retorted.
Marlow shrugged his shoulders, bowed slightly to the pretty but
unreasonable young woman, and went away.
Winifred also should have gone. She had got her _sal volatile_ and her
information. But life was lying in ruins around her--Sadie's life, if
not her own--and she did not know how to set about reconstructing it.
"What man does she love who loves another girl?" she asked herself.
Then, suddenly, she knew. It was Earl Usher, and he loved her,
Winifred, who could never be more to him than a friend.
Win had heard of a "vicious circle." It seemed that she and Sadie and
Ursus were travelling in one, going round and round, and could never
get out.
"But I must go down," the mechanical part of herself kept repeating.
She had involuntarily paused near the door to think things out in
peace. There were no patients for the two narrow white beds, and the
nurse--a small, nervous woman with sentimental eyes--was heating water
over a spirit lamp.
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