Now she hurt him. A very little old woman. He said
briefly, hiding a shaken voice:
"They do all they can. I can do no more."
She reiterated with a peasant's obstinacy.
"I will not 'ave it--I will not--not 'ave it--I cannot bear it."
"Dr. Rutherford is there. I tell you he can do all that can be done.
I offered her an injection--she would not have it."
"She pretend--all ze time she pretend. Even before me, 'er mother, she
pretend. But I know."
"Her mother!"
He stepped back against the railings, freeing himself fretfully from
the hand that clutched his arm.
"If you are her mother she treats you strangely. She treats you like a
servant."
"Before others, Monsieur. She is different--of different stuff. We
'ave always understood. If I am to be with 'er it must be as 'er
servant. That is our affair. But you are not kind. You let 'er
suffer too much. I will not 'ave it."
She drew herself up. She almost menaced him. He saw that she knew.
As a physician he had done what lay in his power, but as a human being
he had failed utterly and deliberately. Had always failed. And he was
aware of an incredible fear of her.
"I will come now," he stammered.
He gave her such sleep that night that it seemed unlikely that she
would ever wake again. He knew that he had exceeded the limits of
mercy set down by his profession and that the nurse had looked
strangely at him. But he was indifferent. It was as though he, too,
had been momentarily released.
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