He stood by the bedside, looking down. Wilson was breathing quietly: his
color was coming up, as he rallied from the shock. In K.'s mind now was
just one thought--to bring him through for Sidney, and then to go away. He
might follow Joe to Cuba. There were chances there. He could do
sanitation work, or he might try the Canal.
The Street would go on working out its own salvation. He would have to
think of something for the Rosenfelds. And he was worried about Christine.
But there again, perhaps it would be better if he went away. Christine's
story would have to work itself out. His hands were tied.
He was glad in a way that Sidney had asked no questions about him, had
accepted his new identity so calmly. It had been overshadowed by the night
tragedy. It would have pleased him if she had shown more interest, of
course. But he understood. It was enough, he told himself, that he had
helped her, that she counted on him. But more and more he knew in his
heart that it was not enough. "I'd better get away from here," he told
himself savagely.
And having taken the first step toward flight, as happens in such cases, he
was suddenly panicky with fear, fear that he would get out of hand, and
take her in his arms, whether or no; a temptation to run from temptation,
to cut everything and go with Joe that night. But there his sense of humor
saved him. That would be a sight for the gods, two defeated lovers flying
together under the soft September moon.
Some one entered the room. He thought it was Sidney and turned with the
light in his eyes that was only for her. It was Carlotta.
She was not in uniform. She wore a dark skirt and white waist and her high
heels tapped as she crossed the room. She came directly to him.
"He is better, isn't he?"
"He is rallying. Of course it will be a day or two before we are quite
sure."
She stood looking down at Wilson's quiet figure.
"I guess you know I've been crazy about him," she said quietly. "Well,
that's all over. He never really cared for me. I played his game and
I--lost. I've been expelled from the school."
Quite suddenly she dropped on her knees beside the bed, and put her cheek
close to the sleeping man's hand. When after a moment she rose, she was
controlled again, calm, very white.
"Will you tell him, Dr. Edwardes, when he is conscious, that I came in and
said good-bye?"