Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. The doctor nodded to him curtly. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. And here against a wall were the plumtrees. Ought she to walk into some of these places and tell them what she could do? She hesitated at the window of a shipping-office in Cockspur Street and at the Army and Navy Stores, but decided that perhaps there would be some special and customary hour, and that it would be better for her to find this out before she made her attempt. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead.
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