A walking boot is but a cold comfort. And my
thriftiness denied my tears the soiling of the blouse.
So I sat up on my knees and finished the unpacking.
Just before dinner time I donned a becoming gown to
chirk up my courage, groped my way down the long, dim
stairs, and telephoned to Von Gerhard. It seemed to me
that just to hear his voice would instill in me new
courage and hope. I gave the number, and waited.
"Dr. von Gerhard?" repeated a woman's voice at the
other end of the wire. "He is very busy. Will you leave
your name?"
"No," I snapped. "I'll hold the wire. Tell him that
Mrs. Orme is waiting to speak to him."
"I'll see." The voice was grudging.
Another wait; then--"Dawn!" came his voice in glad
surprise.
"Hello!" I cried, hysterically. "Hello! Oh, talk!
Say something nice, for pity's sake! I'm sorry that I've
taken you away from whatever you were doing, but I
couldn't help it. Just talk please! I'm dying of
loneliness."
"Child, are you ill?" Von Gerhard's voice was so
satisfyingly solicitous. "Is anything wrong? Your voice
is trembling. I can hear it quite plainly. What has
happened? Has Norah written--"
"Norah? No. There was nothing in her letter to
upset me.
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