Again she lifted him, and held the
glass of cold orange juice while he
drank. When she laid him back on
the pillows, his eyes did not close at
once. They remained fixed on her
face, and after a moment, he said
faintly:
“Are you going to take care of J
me”? j
There w’as a. little-boy appeal in
those words that affected Betty
strangely. It made the relationship
between them suddenly personal. It
made her want to tight for his life,
not only because it was a human life,
but for him, and for what he was
and could be.
She knew nothing about him save
for the fact that his name was James
Cornell. She did not know xvhat he
did, nor even if he were married. But
his appeal had gone straight to her
woman's heart. Those few words had
touched her as nothing else ever had.
“Yes, I'm going to take care of
you,” she said very firmly, “and
you’re going to help me, will you re
member that"?
“I’ll remember,” he said faintly.
Then his lids drooped weakly, and he
sank once more into a lethargy. Betty
stood and looked down at him for a
long moment. The strangest Impulses
were welling up In her. She wanted
suddenly to cradle his head against
her breast, to hold death at bay by
the force of her own vitality.
"You must live!” she said suddenly,
aloud. Then she went scarlet at the
sound of her own voice in that quiet
room.
