“I am sure of that,” I replied earnestly, and the next moment, without a farewell glance, a touch of my hand, he went over to Katherine, and, in a voice very different in volume than the suppressed tones of his conversation to me, I heard him apologize to her for having to go away at once, heard her laughing reply that after the French hospitals she did not fear the New York streets, and then the door had closed after the young physician, whose too-evident interest in me had always disturbed me.

I hastened to join Lillian and Katherine.  I did not want to be left alone.  Thinking was too painful.

“Just think!” Katherine said as I joined them, “I find that I’m living only a block away.  I’m at my old rooming place—­luckily they had a vacant room.  Of course, I shall be fearfully busy with Dr. Braithwaite’s work, but being so near, I can spend every spare minute with you—­that is, if you want me,” she added shyly.

“Want you, child!” I returned, and I think the emphasis in my voice reassured her, for she flushed with pleasure, and the next minute with embarrassment as I said pointedly: 

“I imagine you have some unusually interesting and pleasant things to tell me, especially about my cousin.”

But, after all, it was left for Jack himself to tell me the “interesting things.”  Katherine became almost at once so absorbed in the work for Dr. Braithwaite that she had very little time to spend with us.  There was another reason for her absence, of which she spoke half apologetically one night, about a week after her arrival.

“There’s a girl in the room next mine who keeps me awake by her moaning,” she said.  “I don’t get half enough sleep, and the result is that when I get in from my work I’m so dead tired I tumble into bed, instead of coming over here as I’m longing to do.  The housekeeper says she’s a student of some kind, and that she’s really ill enough to need a physician, although she goes to her school or work each morning.  I’ve only caught glimpses of her, but she strikes me as being rather a stunning-looking creature.  I wish she’d moan in the daytime, though.  Some night I’m going in there and give her a sleeping powder.  Joking aside, I’m rather anxious about her.  Whatever is the matter with her, physical or mental, it’s a real trouble, and I wish I could help her.”

The real Katherine Sonnot spoke in the last sentence.  Like many nurses, she had a superficial lightness of manner, behind which she often concealed the wonderful sympathy with and understanding for suffering which was hers.  I knew that if the poor unknown sufferer needed aid or friendship, she would receive both from Katherine.

It was shortly after this talk that I noticed the extraordinary intimacy which seemed to have sprung up between Katherine and Lillian.  I seemed to be quite set aside, almost forgotten, when Katherine came to the apartment.  And there was such an air of mystery about their conversation!  If they were talking together, and I came within hearing, they either abruptly stopped speaking, or shifted the subject.