The Web of Life

e flesh he had to deal with. The head nurse followed his swift movements, wearily moving an incandescent light hither and thither, observing the surgeon with languid interest. Another nurse, much y

er. The Chicago spring, so long delayed, had blazed with a sudden fury the last week in March, and now at

to ignore completely the other occupants of the room, of whom he was the central, commanding figure. The head nurse held the lamp carelessly, resting her hand over one hip thrown out, her figure drooping into an ungainly pose. She gazed at the surgeon steadily, as if puzzled at his intense preoccupation over the common case of a man "shot in a row." Her eyes travelled over the surgeon's neat-fitting evening dress, which was so bizarre here in the dingy receiving room, redolent of bloody tasks. Evidently he had been out to some dinner or party, and when the injured man was brought in had merely donned his rumpled lin

ow into the dull night. Some locomotives in the railroad yards just outside were puffing lazily, breathing themselves deeply in the damp, spring air. One hoarser note than the others struck familiarly on the nurse's ear. That was the voice of the engine on the ten-thirty through express, which was

manded just there to death. The ten-thirty express was now pulling out through the yards in a powerful clamor of clattering switches and hearty pulsations that shook the flimsy walls of St. Isidore's, and drew new groans from the man on the chair. The young nurse's eyes travelled fr

spoke; his words shot

l opera

lf in selecting and wiping the instruments. Yet in spit

this man,-any friend?"

nd thrown out of gear by this unexpected d

urgeon iterated peremptorily, l

rs. The surgeon wheeled about and glanced almost savagely at the woman, his eyes travelling swiftly from her head to her feet. The woman thus directly questioned b

his

us comment on the twisted figure by their side. The surgeon drew his hands from his pockets and stepped toward the woman, questioning her m

the inquiry of the nonchalant outsiders: 'Yes, I am his wife, his wife, the wife of the object over there, brought here to the hospital, shot in

urgent present-the case. He led the way to one side, and turning his

bad places. There isn't much chance for him-in his condition," he explained b

ed; "I shall operate unless there

ng for this woman before him. She did not reply, but waited to hea

t a certain operation now will bring him arou

If it was the only chance, and his custom was to operate in such cases,-if he w

ecovery," he said at last, in low ton

he had had to put out of his mind so often in operating in hospital cases,-that it made little difference whether, indeed, it might be a great deal wi

bly have a few hours of consciousnes

t know that she had nothing to say to him,

here, there's only one chance in a thousand that we can save that carcass; and if he gets that chance, it may not be a whole one-do you care enough for him to run that dangerous risk?' But she obstinately kept her own counsel. The professional manner that he r

nd and suggested doubts. Under the miserable story that he ha

, probing her for an evidence. "All any of us have, e

ggling for words. "Why do you ask me?" she

surgeon replied gently,

etter that way, only som

probed true and had f

oice. "You must do what you think-best. I have no

ed in the conventional decision, and that he had not brought on himself a responsib

nger nurse was bathing the swollen, sodden face with apiece of gauze; the head nurse, annoy

, staring out into the soft night. At last, when the preparations were completed, the younger nurse c

comprehend a world that had caught her unawares. She had removed her hat and was carrying it loosely in her hand that had fallen to her side. Her hair swept back in two waves above the temples with a simplicity that made the head distinguished. Even the nurses' caps betrayed

swept over her face. Then she looked up to the surgeon and seemed to speak to him, as to t

ose intimate moments that come to nervously organized people, when the petty detail of acquaintanceshi

something, and the head nurse, her chief duties performed, drew herself upright for a breath, and her keen, little black eyes noticed an involuntary tremble, a pause, an uncertainty at a critical moment in the doctor's tense arm. A wilful current of thought had disturbed his action. The sharp head nurse wondered if Dr. Sommers had had any wine that even

m grip on the instrument. "Miss Lemoris, some No. 3 gauze." Then not a sound until the thing was

the nurse's admiration. While she helped the interne with the complicated dressing, the little nurse made ready for removal to

I just know. Dr. Sommers is so clever, he'd save a dead man. You had better go now. No use to see him to-night, for he won't come out of the opiate unt

could see two attendants wheeling a stretcher with a man lying motionless upon it. They waited in the hall outside under a gas-jet, which cast a flickering light upon the outstretched form. This was the next case, which had been waiting its turn while her husband was in the receiving room,-a hand from the railroad yards, whose foot had slipped on a damp rail; now a

s condition. There were things in this world much more evil