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 some strange unknown reason had decided on a sanitarium for his career. Had he not decided on a sanitarium, he might have been a bond salesman or a confidence man. He was over six feet tall and of great bulk. He had a red, jolly face and a quick, convincing smile. He put Dot at her ease. He wore his personality as a woman wears an orchid. He told amusing stories of women who had been his guests. He made Dot feel that of course her confinement would be a bit more important than any he had ever housed before. She had an idea that he would be running in and out of her room to admire her baby, to raise her spirits, to ask if there were anything else he might do. He stated his prices in a careless, offhand manner, as though if she didn't have the money it wouldn't make a particle of difference.

Dot liked him at once. She felt now that she had a friend in the place, some one who'd sort of look after her. Of course, she couldn't possibly know that never again after receiving her receipt for twenty-five dollars (balance to be paid upon admission of patient) would she see the jolly, big-brotherly sanitarium barker.

A nurse showed her over the place. It was an old house. There was no elevator. Women were brought from the delivery room on stretchers by nurse-power. One flight up was the delivery room. Too bad Mrs. Collins couldn't take a look at it, but there was a patient on the table just now. Yes, they had another delivery room, but the men were cleaning it. Now here was a nice front room Mrs. Collins could have. Two hundred and twenty-five dollars. Well, it was a very large room. They had others. For instance, behind this door was a lovely, comfortable room for only a hundred and seventy-five. Unfortunately there was a patient in it at the present time, and Mrs. Collins wouldn't be able to see it. Over here was a room that got the sun all day long. Only a hundred and fifty.