The Fruit of the Tree

rd, a nurse was bending over a young man whose band

arm behind him she effected a professional r

ring. "I don't s'pose there's any kind of a show for me, is there?" he asked, pointing wit

he dampness from his forehead; then she

not

can't tell till the i

o down by

ou don't excite yoursel

--there's four of

four reasons for keepi

the expert touch of her hands and the constant vigilance of her dark steady eyes. This vigilance softened to pity as the patient turned his head away with a groan. His free left hand continued to travel the sheet, c

, and rose to face the matron, a sharp

. The assistant manager from the

se and compressed lips of the mover of men, being curiously modified by the veiled inward gaze of the grey eyes he turned on her. It was one of the interests of Justine Brent's crowded yet lonely life to attempt a rapid mental classification of the persons she met; but the contradictions in Amherst's face baffled her, and she murmured inwardly "I

d to isolate dying patients had been placed against this cot, which was the last at that end of the ward, and the sp

herst asked, as Mi

ferent and deeper--the familiar habit of gentle speech; and his shabby clothes--carefully br

ered. "The wounds were dressed about an hour

--how many

his arm is badly to

with bent head

ou think o

"Dr. Disbrow

ason for asking." He broke off and looked at her again, his veiled gaze sharpening to a glance of concentra

ed a tardy and imperfect apprehension of the

rd, and hearing that they were in want

etter. Is there any place wher

the ward now, unless

Mrs. Ogan," he interposed qui

anything connected with the management of things here--you know we

you to break through the rule

yes steadily, with a glint of good-humour behin

si

a little way with you. Let me put my case, and i

and Amherst, with a slight nod of farewell, passed