"What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Anything that had love in it! The doctor comprehended that he also had his work cut out. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. He thanked God for this talent of his. He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased.
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