n, with a friendly nod, he would recognize, perhaps the widow--and
the door closed again on the less fortunate.

It was, of course, more than possible that the young woman was ill
over her dressmaker's bill, rather than suffering from a weak heart or
an opera cold. Sperry's ear, however, generally detected the cold.
It was not his policy to say unpleasant things--especially to young
widows who had recently inherited the goods and chattels of their
hard-working husbands.

"Ill!--nonsense, my dear lady; you look as fresh as a rose," he would
begin in his fascinating voice--"a slight cold, but nothing serious, I
assure you. You women are never blessed with prudence," etc., etc.

To another: "Nervous prostration, my dear madame! Fudge--all
imagination! Silly, really silly. You caught cold, of course, coming
out of the heated theatre. Get a good rest, my dear Mrs. Jack--I want
you to stay at least a month at Palm Beach, and no late suppers,
and no champagne. No--not a drop," he adds severely. Then softening,
"Well, then, half a glass. There, I've been generous, haven't I?"
etc., etc., and so the day passed.

On this particular day it was four o'clock before he had dismissed the
last of his patients. Then he turned to his nurse with an impatient
tone, as he searched hurriedly among the papers on his desk:

"Find out what day I set for young Mrs. Van Ripley's operation."

"Tuesday, sir," answered the nurse.

"Then make it Thursday, and tell James to pack up my big valise and
see that my golf things are in it and aboard the 9.18 in the morning."

"Yes, sir," answered the girl, dipping her plump hands in a pink
solution.

All this time Alice had been haunted by the crawling hands of the
clock. Luxurious as was her house of marble, it was a dreary domain
at best to-day, as she sat in the small square room that lay hidden
beyond the conservatory of cool palms and exotic plants screening one
end of the dining room--a room her very own, and one to which only
the chosen few were ever admitted; a jewel box of a room indeed, whose
walls, ceiling and furniture were in richly carved teak. A corner, by
the way, in which one could receive an old friend and be undisturbed.
There was about it, too, a certain feeling of snug secrecy which
appealed to her, particularly the low lounge before the Moorish
fireplace of carved alabaster, which was well provided with soft
pillows richly covered with rare embroideries. To-day none of these