you know. I've had that terrible fluttering once before. It seized me
this time, and I fell down in the crowd, and some people walked over
me, but some one else helped me up, and let me sit down in a big lighted
hallway, the entrance to some theatre, and some one brought me some
brandy, but somebody else said I was drunk, and they took it away again,
and put me out. They could see I was a fool, that I hadn't a friend
on earth. And when I went out, there was a big picture of a woman in
tights, and the word 'Amazons' overhead--and then I remembered you. I
knew you were my friend--the only one I have on earth."

"It is very flattering--to be remembered like that," said Sister
Soulsby, gently. The disposition to laugh was smothered by a pained
perception of the suffering he was undergoing. His face had grown drawn
and haggard under the burden of his memories as he rambled on.

"So I came straight to you," he began again. "I had just money enough
left to pay my fare. The rest is in my valise at the hotel--the Murray
Hill Hotel. It belongs to the church. I stole it from the church. When I
am dead they can get it back again!"

Sister Soulsby forced a smile to her lips. "What nonsense you
talk--about dying!" she exclaimed. "Why, man alive, you'll sleep this
all off like a top, if you'll only lie down and give yourself a chance.
Come, now, you must do as you're told."

With a resolute hand, she made him lie down again, and once more covered
him with the fur. He submitted, and did not even offer to put out his
arm this time, but looked in piteous dumbness at her for a long time.
While she sat thus in silence, the sound of Brother Soulsby moving about
upstairs became audible.