There is nothing for the boy but death, if it is the Angel that is required to save him." The Angel stood between them.
"Well, I just guess not!" she cried.

"If Freckles wants me, all he has to do is to say so, and he can have me!" The amazed men stepped back, staring at her.
"That he will never say," said McLean at last, "and you don't understand, Angel.

I don't know how you came here.

I wouldn't have had you hear that for the world, but since you have, dear girl, you must be told that it isn't your friendship or your kindness Freckles wants; it is your love." The Angel looked straight into the great surgeon's eyes with her clear, steady orbs of blue, and then into McLean's with unwavering frankness.
"Well, I do love him," she said simply.
McLean's arms dropped helplessly.
"You don't understand," he reiterated patiently.

"It isn't the love of a friend, or a comrade, or a sister, that Freckles wants from you; it is the love of a sweetheart.