Merton Gill had a quite definite feeling that he had already struggled and sacrificed enough to give the public something better and finer.

It was time the public realized this.
Still he waited, not even again reaching the heart of things, for his friend beyond the window had suffered no relapse.

He came to resent a certain inconsequence in the woman.

She might have had those headaches oftener.

He had been led to suppose that she would, and now she continued to be weary but entirely well.
More waiting and the ten-dollar bill went for a five and some silver.