Page:Bad Girl (1929).pdf/226

 "Well," he said at length, "there's the five-tube—"

"I have another pain," said Dot.

The doctor held a respectful silence until the pain had winged its inconsequential way out of the scene.

"Yes, I want five tubes," he said. "Which is the best buy?"

At eleven-thirty, Dr. Stewart put his watch away and got to his feet. "Well," he said, "I guess we'll all take a little ride down to the sanitarium."

Dot scrambled off the bed and ran to her closet. Her cape, her hat. There was her bag in the little alley between the vanity table and the wall. Eddie must take that. It was all packed. She was ready now. Dr. Stewart went downstairs ahead of Eddie and Dot. Eddie got his hat and took Dot's hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

Then all of a sudden she wasn't ready any more. A moment ago she had been, but now she was not ready to leave the little apartment where she had dreamed and suffered and worked. It was not easy now to walk, but she went to the little kitchen and looked at it as it lay in the dark with its little gas stove shining blackly, its canisters glimmering in the moonlight and the precious oilcloth which had been shellacked. She shut the swinging door that had so delighted her. It was hard to look at the little kitchen now. It was wholesome and sweet and innocent. It was not fair to burden it with the knowledge that there was pain and suffering in the world.

She stood for one sad, despairing minute in the living-room. There were the curtains she had made, the radio set that had brought her the Democratic Convention. These things knew her, and she had to leave them. She had to go away.

"Ready, Kid?"