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“When I was warming up in the library this morning she was coughing terribly and I talked her into trying the charity hospitals again. It seemed as if they must take her. You know she went a while back, but couldn’t get in; she was an ambulatory case. He came in about noon, all used up and they didn’t have even a crust of bread.

“We started out and just on the edge of the sidewalk she had a hemorrhage and before we could get the ambulance she was dead. I had taken her in my arms, her little body was light as a feather.” My voice failed.

“I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he realised that she was dead.... Dan, I can’t die as she did. Before I go I want to see the open fields, feel the soft earth beneath my feet, draw a few breaths of real air. Since I’ve lived in this slum I’m getting so I can’t even believe in God.”

“Ethel, you’re getting morbid. What’s all this talk about dying? You’re simply upset over these people’s trouble.”

“No, I’m not morbid, Danny boy. I hate to tell you, but Doctor Graves says I have consumption and must go back to California at once if I’m to get well.”