"I have never even seen any one dangerously ill.

I--It is as if I can't believe it." "You can't believe it?
That is a wonderful thing," he said, even more quietly than before.
"If none of us believed, how wonderful that would be! Beautiful, too." "How that poor mother believed it!" I said, remembering her swollen, distorted, sobbing face.

"She believed nothing else; everything else was gone." "I wonder what would have happened if you had spoken to her about the child ?" he said, slowly, as if he were trying to imagine it.
"I'm a very shy person.

I should never have courage to speak to a stranger," I answered.
"I'm afraid I'm a coward, too.

She might have thought me interfering." "She might not have understood," he murmured.
"It was clinging to her dress when she walked away down the platform," I went on.