"What is the meaning of this?" she said, rising, and drawing herself up
indignantly. "Don't you see how ill this girl is? Such an uproar at
such a time is indecent."
The woman shrank from her gaze and slunk away. The policeman wiped his
hot face with a red handkerchief.
"I saw the girl fetch you here, ma'am," he said, apologetically, "and I
thought it was a trap. It ain't safe for a woman, let alone a lady, to
come to no such a place. I'll just wait and see you safe out of it."
He shut the door, and Ideala heard him walking up and down on the
landing outside.
The dying girl seemed scarcely conscious of what was passing. Ideala
looked round for something to revive her. There was not even a cup of
water in the room. She knelt once more beside the bed, and raised her
in her arms, and let her head rest on her shoulder. All the mother in
her was throbbing with tenderness for this poor outcast. The girl drew
a long deep sigh.
"Could you take anything?" Ideala asked.
"No, lady, not now. The thirst was awful awhile ago, and I cried and
cried, although I knew no one would listen to me, or come if they
heard.
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