"
A cold gleam came into his eyes and he shook his fist before the doctor's
face.
"Do not try deceiving me about this. By God, I will----"
Turning, Doctor Grover ran back through the swinging door leaving Sam
staring blankly at his back. A nurse, one whom he had seen in Doctor
Grover's office, came out of the door and taking his arm, walked beside
him up and down the corridor. Sam put his arm around her shoulder and
talked. An illusion that it was necessary to comfort her came to him.
"Do not worry," he said. "She will be all right. Grover will take care of
her. Nothing can happen to little Sue."
The nurse, a small, sweet-faced, Scotch woman, who knew and admired Sue,
wept. Some quality in his voice had touched the woman in her and the tears
ran in a little stream down her cheeks. Sam continued talking, the woman's
tears helping him to regain his grip upon himself.
"My mother is dead," he said, an old sorrow revisiting him. "I wish that
you, like Mary Underwood, would be a new mother to me."
When the time came that he could be taken to the room where Sue lay, his
self-possession had returned to him and his mind had begun blaming the
little dead stranger for the unhappiness of the past months and for the
long separation from what he thought was the real Sue.
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