The first peg was torture. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. It wouldn't do to say that she was from the hospital. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible.
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