Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-08-03

How perfectly she could make n bed
with a sick person in it. rolling him
over on the side of the bed. pulling
the sheet taut. 1t was marvellous.
Nan was wild with impotence. Tom
must either be going to get we'll or
die. Then why didn't something hap
pen? Miss Wallace explained that in
pneumonia the disease had to run
certain length Of time. Then there
was either a crisis. where the pa
tents temperature dropped suddenly
to practically normal, or the fever
dropped gradually.
Miss Wallace came each night at
and stayed until the next morning.
Nan took care of Tom during the day
1t wasn't so bad when Miss Wallace
was there. Nan could fight off the
fear that constantly gripped her heart
But when she was alone, and she stood
over Toms bed and realized that she
couldn't pierce through the veil of
fever to his consciousness, she was
sick with terror.
The doctor was nOncOmmittal. He
would give Miss Wallace Instructions
and Nan saw her doing things, giving
Tom hypOdermics, sponging off his
mouth with an orange-Wood stick
wrapped in cotton.
How could any one breathe like that
AMI live? 1t just wasn't possible,
One morning just after Miss Wallace
had left Nan stood beside the bed.
Everything had been done that could
be done-everythingi She would have
to go through long day of listening
to Tom breathe like this, and of know
ing in her heart of hearts that he
wasn't going to get better.
The doorbell shrilled, so abruptly
that it startled her.
She was wearing a warm wooden
cape over her dress, but she shivered
a little as she entered the warmth of
the studio. How often she had longed
to go in there but wouldn't because
she simply couldn't leave Tom alone
Whether he knew her or not, she
must be with him spiritually in this.
Sometimes she leaned over his bed
and spoke to him. hoping that her
words would pierce his subconscious
mind.
Tom-Tom darling-don't die, 1
need you so much"
A tall man stood at the door. 1t
was twilight, and she could just see
his figure because she hadn't snapped
on any of the lamps. Then she rec
ognized him. 1t was Martin Lee
"Oh, how do you do?" Her words
were little stiff. won't you come
in?" He followed her into the studio.
where she snapped on couple of
lights. Then she saw that he carried
two large boxes of flowers and she
took them from him.
THANK you so much. And will
you make yourself comfortable while
l take care of these? / won't be a
minute"
How mechanical life was these days.
For her it was reduced to the simplest
things. Filling an ice-bag, running
cold water into vases for the flowers
that people sent.
Martin Lees flowers were gorgeous,
American beauties, so long that hole
had to be cut in the box. The smaller
box contained pink and white sweet
,as. She rather imagined these were
intended for her.
He rose to his feet as she re-entered
the room.
They're lovely, simply lovely
Thank you so much"
"How is your husband?"
Hes very ill, Mr.. Lee Her voice
shook little as she sat down opposite
him and reached for a cigarette.
He came to light it for her, and as
she raised her small, childish face,
sharpened with fear and worry, he
saw tears on her lashes.
Why couldn't she have loved him?
Why, why?
"Are you having all the care you
need for him."
"Oh, yes. OF course, want to do