"They told me you weren't working here," said Dan at length.
"I'm not. I've just come on an errand for Mrs. Clarke."
Dan's eyes searched hers in swift inquiry.
"I'm a trained nurse now," she said, determined to take the situation
lightly. "You remember how crazy I used to be about doping people?"
He did not answer, and she hurried on as if afraid of any silence that
might fall between them.
"It all started with the smallpox in Calvary Alley. Been back
there, Dan?"
"Not yet."
"Lots of changes since the old days. Mr. Snawdor and Fidy and Mrs. Smelts
and Mr. Demry all gone. Have you heard about Mr. Demry?"
Dan shook his head. He was not listening to her, but he was looking at
her searchingly, broodingly, with growing insistence.
The hammering of the type-writer was the only sound that broke the
ensuing pause.
"Tell me your news, Dan," said Nance in desperation. "Where you
living now?"
"At Mrs. Purdy's. She's going to take care of Ted for me."
"Ted? Oh! I forgot. How old is he now?"
For the first time Dan's face lit up with his fine, rare smile.
"He's four, Nance, and the smartest kid that ever lived! You'd be
crazy about him, I know. I wonder if you couldn't go out there some
day and see him?"
Nance showed no enthusiasm over the suggestion; instead she gathered up
her muff and gloves and, leaving a message for Mr. Clarke with the
stenographer, prepared to depart.
"I am thinking about going away," she said.
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