eir eyes met in a long gaze.
The doctor and nurse looked away from this mute communion. Rankin put a
pen in Lydia's fingers and held up the paper. With, a faint, sighing
breath, loud in the silent room, she raised her hand. It fell to the bed
again. Dr. Melton then knelt beside her, put his own sinewy, corded
fingers around it and guided it to the paper. The few lines were traced.
Lydia's hand dropped and her eyes closed. Rankin stood up to go.

The nurse turned off the light and the room was again in a half
obscurity, the deep, steady voice of the rain coming in through the open
windows, the sweet summer-night smells mingling with the acrid odor of
chemicals, Lydia lying straight and stark under the sheet--but now her
eyes were open, shining, fixed on Rankin. Their light was the last he
saw as he closed the door behind him.

After a time the doctor came out and joined Rankin waiting at the head
of the stairs. He looked very old and tired, but the ghastly expression
of strain was replaced with a flickering restlessness. He came up to
Rankin, blinking rapidly, and touched him on the arm. "Look here!" he
whispered. "Her pulse has gone down from a hundred and fifty to a
hundred and thirty."

He sat down on the top step, clasped his hands about his knees, and
leaned his white head against the balustrade. He looked like some small,
weary, excited old child. "Lord, Rankin! Sit down when you get a
chance!" he whispered. "If you'd been through what I have! And you
needn't try to get me to add another word to what I've just told you. I
don't dare! It may mean nothing, you know. It may very likely mean
nothing. Good Heavens! The mental sensitiveness of women at this time!
It's beyond belief. I never get used to the miracle of it. Everything
turns on it--everything! If the pulse should go down ten more now, I
should--Oh, Heaven bless that crazy Celt for getting you here! Good
Lord! If you hadn't come when you did! I don't see what could have
become of the messenger I sent--why, hours ago--I knew that nothing
could go right if you weren't--is that the door?" He sprang up and sank
back again--"I told the nurse to report as soon as there was any
change--I was afraid if I stayed in the room she would feel the
twitching of my damned nerves--yes, really--it's so--she's in a state
when a feather's weight--suppose 'Stashie hadn't brought you! I couldn't
have kept Madeleine off much longer--God! if _Madeleine_ had gone into
that room, I