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Grant, Robert, 1852-1940

"Unleavened Bread"

But the
doctor appeared to her anxious, and spent only a few minutes at table.
He said as he rose,
"Excuse me, but Pauline--does she know?"
"I will send her word."
Selma would have been glad to dispense with the presence of her
sister-in-law. Their relations had not been sympathetic since the
episode of Miss Bailey, and, though Pauline still dined at the house
once a week, the intercourse between them had become reserved and
perfunctory. She grudged sharing with her what might be Wilbur's last
hours. She grudged, too, permitting her to help to nurse him, especially
now that her own capabilities were in the way of being recognized, for
she remembered Dr. Page's partiality for her. Still, she appreciated
that she must let her know.
Pauline arrived speedily, and Selma found herself sobbing in her arms.
She was pleased by this rush of feeling on her own part, and, confirmed
in her belief that her sister-in-law was cold because she did not break
down, and, shrinking from her efforts to comfort her, she quickly
regained her self-control. Pauline seemed composed and cheerful, but the
unceasing watchfulness and manifest tension of the doctor were
disconcerting, and as the afternoon shadows deepened, the two women sat
grave and silent, appalled by the suspicion that Wilbur's condition was
eminently critical.


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