for a denial of what was recognized as already undeniable. The figures about her seemed to recede, as though viewed from a river ferry parting from its slip-edge. Wilsnach alone remained close to her, so close that as her eyes searched his face she could see the look of pity on it.
Her wistful gaze was still on his face as he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the room. There with awkward gentleness he placed her on the disordered bed. She thought, for a moment, that he was alone with her. But she could hear the girl in the nurse's uniform, at the telephone, making patiently frantic efforts to get Doctor Wilson on the wire. Then, as Wilsnach ran to the door and shouted out an order or two to the men grouped there, the white-faced girl in the uniform came to the bedside. She carried a pair of scissors in her hand. She began cutting, recklessly, ruinously, at the clothing encompassing Sadie's body. The latter noticed with languid wonder that the girl was crying softly to herself as she worked. She also noticed for the first time that the clothing being cut away from her was warm and wet, as though drenched in hot tea. She still wondered why they felt sorry for her. Even the last of the coerced
