She suffered from headache and had prescribed
herself some tea. The water had begun to boil, and despite the
throbbing in her temples she hummed monotonously: "You Made Me Love
You."
Winifred heard the tune through her thoughts of Sadie and Earl Usher,
and it seemed to make everything sadder and more hopeless. But
suddenly the singing broke off--the thin voice rose to a shriek, and
was lost in a loud explosion.
In the act of going out Win turned, bewildered and expecting horror.
Head down, her hands covering her burned face, the nurse came
staggering toward the door. Hair and cap were on fire. All over the
white dress and apron were dotted little blue tongues of flame that
had spouted out from the bursting lamp.
Often such an accident had been lightly prophesied by this very woman.
The spirit sent up for the hospital was of the cheapest. Peter Rolls
was "not in business for his health!"
Dazed by the deafening noise, and shocked to the very heart by the
woman's shriek of pain, Win was not conscious of thought. She did not
tell herself to spring to the nearest bed, tear off the covering,
stop the nurse before she could rush wildly into the corridor, and
wrap her in the blanket.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376