She was full of quiet gratitude for what he had done. She said she knew that without his kind intercession she would have had to pay far more. She had been through it too recently before and understood that such things were expensive. He rejoiced that she judged only by the standards of a small country place, and knew not city prices, and therefore little suspected how very much he had done to smooth her way. He told her of the preacher he had secured that afternoon by telephone—a plain, kindly man who had been recommended by the undertaker. She thanked him again, apathetically, as if she had not the heart to feel anything keenly, but was grateful to him as could be.
“Have you had anything to eat to-day?” he asked, suddenly.
She shook her head. “I could not eat! It would choke me!”
“But you must eat, you know,” he said, gently, as if she were a little child. “You cannot bear all this. You will break down.”
“Oh, what does that matter now?” she asked, pitifully, with her hand fluttering to her heart again and a wave of anguish passing over her white face.
“But we must live, mustn’t we, until we are called to come away?”
He asked the question shyly. He did not understand where the thought or words came from. He was not conscious of evolving them from his own mind.
She looked at him in sad acquiescence. “I know,” she said, like a submissive child; “and I’ll try, pretty soon. But I can’t just yet. It would choke me!”
Even while they were talking a door in the front of the hall opened, and an untidy person with unkempt hair appeared, asking the girl to come into her room and have a bite. When she shook her head the woman said:
“Well, then, child, go out a few minutes and get something. You’ll not last the night through at this rate! Go, and I’ll stay here until you come back.”
Courtland persuaded her at last to come with him down to a little restaurant around the corner and have a cup of tea—just a cup of tea—and with a weary look, as if she thought it was the quickest way to get rid of their kindness, she yielded. He thought he never would forget the look she cast behind her at the little, white, sheet-covered cot as she passed out the door.
It was an odd experience, taking this stranger to supper. He had met all sorts of girls during his young career and had many different experiences, but none like this. Yet he was so filled with sympathy and sorrow for her that it was not embarrassing. She did not seem like an ordinary girl. She was set apart by her sorrow. He ordered the daintiest and most attractive that the plain menu of the little restaurant afforded, but he only succeeded in getting her to eat a few mouthfuls and drink a cup of tea. Nevertheless it did her good. He could see a faint color coming into her cheeks. He spoke of college and his examinations, as if she knew all about him. He thought it might give her a more secure feeling if she knew he was a student at the university. But she took it all as a matter that concerned her not in the least, with that air of aloofness of spirit that showed him he was not touching more than the surface of her being. Her real self was just bearing it to get rid of him and get back to her sorrow alone.