Aren't you going?"
"Yes--I'm going." I walked toward my bedroom. At its door I
stopped. "I'm sorry, Selwyn, but I'll have to go. The woman is
dying."
Selwyn's teeth came together sharply and in his eyes were disapproval
and protest. For a half-minute he did not speak, then he faced me.
"If you insist, there's nothing to be said except that I am going
with you. Where's your telephone? I'll get a cab."
"Oh no! You must not go." Back to the door, I leaned against it.
"You've never seen things of this kind. They're--they're--"
"No pleasanter for you than for me." His voice was decisive; but his
eyes were no longer on mine. They were on Jimmy Gibbons's shoes with
the big and ragged hole in one of them through which the bare skin of
his foot showed red and raw. He drew in his breath; turned to me.
"Put on warm things. It's pretty cold to-night."
CHAPTER XXI
Jimmy followed me into the taxi, and as Selwyn snapped the door he
huddled in an opposite corner as if effacement were an obligation
required by the situation in which he found himself.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228