The Little Doctor had felt that all the tragedy of womanhood and poverty and loneliness was synthesized in this woman with the unusual hair and skin and eyes and expression.

She had been coming every day to see her; the woman was rather seriously ill, and needed better care than she could get out there on the bald prairie, even with the Little Doctor to watch over her.

If she died her face would haunt the Little Doctor always.

Even if she did not die she would remain a vivid memory.

Just now even the Little Doctor's mother instinct was submerged under her professional instincts and her woman sympathy.