W."
"She's coming back," said Io's voice. "No. Don't come nearer. You'll
shut off the air. Find me a fan."
He ran to the outer room and came back with a palm-leaf.
"She wants something," said Io in an agonized half-voice. "She wants it
so badly. What is it? Help me, Ban! She can't speak. Look at her
eyes--so imploring. Is it medicine?... No! Ban, can't you help?"
Banneker took the silver-framed portrait and placed it in the flaccid
hand. The fingers closed over it. The filmiest wraith of a smile played
about the blue lips.
An hour later, Io came out to Banneker waiting fearfully in the big
room.
"She won't have a doctor. I've given her the strychnia and she insists
she'll be all right."
"Don't you think I ought to go for the doctor, anyway?"
"She wouldn't see him. She's very strong-willed.... That's a wonderful
woman, Ban." Io's voice shook a little.
"Yes."
"How did you know about the picture?"
"I saw it on the dresser. And when I saw her eyes, I guessed."
"Yes; there's only one thing a woman wants like _that_, when she's
dying. You're rather a wonderful person, yourself, to have known. That's
her other secret, Ban. The one I said I couldn't tell you."
"I've forgotten it," replied Banneker gravely.
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