You just holler when you want me and
I'll come back." And so saying she left them.
"You are not afraid to touch me--you don't mind?" said the dying girl
when Ideala had taken off her gloves, and knelt, holding her hands.
"Afraid? Mind?" Ideala whispered, her eyes full of pity. "I only wish
you would let me do something for you."
At that moment they were startled by an uproar downstairs. A man and
woman were quarrelling at the top of their voices. At first only their
tones were audible, but these grew more distinct, and in a few seconds
Ideala could hear what was said, and it was evident that the combatants
were approaching.
"I tell you the lady's all right," the woman Ideala had seen downstairs
was heard to shriek, with sundry vile epithets. "Polly's dying, and
she've come to visit her."
"Seein' 's believin'," the man rejoined, doggedly. "Just show me the
lady and shut up, you foul-mouthed devil you."
The door was flung open, and there stood the fat harridan, and towering
over her was a great red-haired policeman, who seemed both relieved and
abashed when he saw Ideala.
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