"
The next day confirmed the first doctor's opinion. Marcella was a little
incredulous. It did not seem to her that she was ill enough to be in
danger. It was only when the doctors advised immediate operation that
the horror and terror of it came flooding in upon her.
"Louis, we'll tell them what we think about it to-morrow, please," she
said.
They went back to Mrs. King's almost in silence. Both of them seemed as
creatures walking in a dream. With one accord they looked at each other
when they got back in the room. Mrs. King, anxious-eyed, was talking to
someone in the kitchen. To avoid having to talk to her they went up on
the roof. The city rumbled beneath their feet, very, very much alive.
Everything seemed to be blatantly alive, flaunting its bounding life at
them. They sat down on the coping.
Without warning she clung to him and began to cry.
"Louis--please don't let me be chopped up," she sobbed. He held her as
though he would snatch her out of life and pain and danger. But he did
not know what to say.
"Louis, I hate my body to push itself into notice like this," she cried
after awhile. "I always did--as a child, and when Andrew was coming, I
hated you to see me--like that--Oh and Louis, I can't die--yet--"
"My darling, you're cracking me up!" he cried. "But don't think of
dying.
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