th
the feverish man in the bed. He walked over and took the hot hand.

"Morton!" came Dalrymple's hoarse voice, "I believe you're sorry for
me!"

"I am sorry," George said, quietly, "and you must get well."

Dalrymple shook his head.

"I know all the dope, and I guess I'm off in a few days. Not so bad now
I can't talk a little and sorta clean one or two things up. No silly
deathbed repentance. I'm jealous of you, Morton; always have been,
because you were getting things I couldn't, and I figured from the first
you were an outsider."

The dry lips smiled a little.

"When you get like this it makes a lot of difference, doesn't it, how
you came into the world? I'll be the real outsider in a few days----"

"Don't talk that way."

A quick temper distorted Dalrymple's face.

"They oughtn't to bring a man into the world as I was brought, without
money."

George couldn't think of anything to say, but Dalrymple hurried on:

"I wanted to thank you for the notes. Don't have to leave those to my
family, anyway. And I'm not sure hadn't better apologize all 'round. I
don't forget I've had raw deal--lots of ways; but no point not saying
Sylvia had pretty raw one from Dolly. Lucky escape for her--mean Dolly's
not domestic animal, and all that."

George was aware of a slight shiver as Dalrymple's hoarse voice slipped
into its old, not quite controlled mannerisms.

"Mean," Dalrymple rambled on, "Dolly won't haunt anybody. Blessings 'n'
sort of thing. Best thing, too. Sorry all 'round. That's all. Thanks
coming, George."

And all George could say was:

"You have to get well, Dolly."

But Dalrymple turned his head away. After a moment George proposed
tentatively:

"Sylvia's downstairs. She wants very much to see you."

Dalrymple shook his head.

"Catching."

"For her sake," George urged.

Dalrymple thought.

"All right," he said at last. "Long enough for me to tell her all right.
But not near. Nurse in the room. Catching, and all that."

George clasped the hot hand.

"Thanks, Dolly. You've done a decent thing, and you're going to get
well."

But as he left the room George felt that the physician had been right.

He spoke to the nurse, who sat in the upper hall, then he told Sylvia.
She went up, and he waited for her. He felt he had to wait. He hoped
Mrs. Dalrymple wouldn't appear again.

Sylvia wasn't long. She came down dry-eyed. She didn't speak even when
George followed her to her automobile, even w