him with all the intuitive sympathy of her womanhood and the understanding of her profession. Not one of the emotions that swept Peter's face but registered full on the girl's sensibilities: the illuminating interest in something, bewilderment, hopelessness, despair, agony, and a final weary surrender to the inevitable--they were all there. But it was the strange, haunting look in the deep-set eyes that made the girl sit up, alert and curious.
"'Phobia," she said, softly, under her breath. "Not over-fed liver or alcoholic heart, but 'phobia, I'll wager, poor childman! Wonder how the doctors have diagnosed him!"
She learned how a few days later when Miss Maxwell, the superintendent of nurses, stopped her in the second-floor corridor. "My dear, I should like to change you from Madam Courot to another case for a few days. Miss Jacobs is on now and--"
"Coppy?" Sheila O'Leary broke in abruptly, a smile of amusement breaking the demureness of her lips. "Needn't explain, Miss Max. I see. Young