He was sorry for his father and for Roscoe, and for Edith and for Sibyl, but their sufferings and outcries seemed far away.
Sibyl was under Gurney's care.

Roscoe had sent for him on Sunday night, not long after Bibbs returned the abandoned wraps; and during the first days of Sibyl's illness the doctor found it necessary to be with her frequently, and to install a muscular nurse.

And whether he would or no, Gurney received from his hysterical patient a variety of pungent information which would have staggered anybody but a family physician.
Among other things he was given to comprehend the change in Bibbs, and why the zinc-eater was not putting a lump in the operator's gizzard as of yore.
Sibyl was not delirious--she was a thin little ego writhing and shrieking in pain.

Life had hurt her, and had driven her into hurting herself; her condition was only the adult's terrible exaggeration of that of a child after a bad bruise--there must be screaming and telling mother all about the hurt and how it happened.

Sibyl babbled herself hoarse when Gurney withheld morphine.