"Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. I care not. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ‘She’s little more than a schoolgirl, just out. Ten days should see you on your feet. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged.
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