don knew, a sovereign and inevitable remedy for all
the ills of the flesh -- pain, he argued, and disease
were inseparable, subdue the first and the latter
ceased to exist as an active ill, and a dexterously
wielded hypodermic needle left behind him a trail
of narcotized and relieved sufferers. Bottles of
patent medicines, exhilarating or numbing as the
purchaser might require, lined the shelves of his
drug store.

But now his customary, soothing smile was absent,
the small, worn case that contained the glittering
syringe and minute bottles filled with white or
vivid yellow pellets was not to be seen.

"Clare here's gone and got herself real miserable,"
he stated, rising and beckoning Gordon to
follow him to the porch. "She's bad," he pronounced
outside; "that pain's got the best of her, and
it's getting the best of me. She ought to be cut, but
she's so weak, it's gone so long, that I'm kind of
slow about opening her. And the truth is, Gordon,
if I was successful she wouldn't have a chance of
getting well here -- it'll take expert nursing, awful
nice food; and then, at the shortest, she would be in
bed a couple of months. She ought to go to the
hospital in Stenton. That's the real truth. I'm
telling you the facts, Gordon; we can't handle her
here, she'd die on us."

Gordon only half-comprehended the other's words

[[72]]

p071 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p072w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p073

v?