Ralph Henry Barbour

“ I laughed. “Until to-day you've never been anything but a voice, Mr. Reed.”
“I'm not much more even now,”' he answered lightly. “My voice seems to be the only part of me that holds its own.”
“Oh, but you're going to get well very fast now,” I said cheerfully. “You mustn't forget that I have taken your case; isn't that what they say?”
“I'm not likely to forget it, Miss Pryde,” he answered gravely. “It's the nicest thing that has happened in months. And, of course, I am going to get better, if only out of gratitude.” ”

“ Tully gives you things to take.”
“Is there anything that idiot hasn't told you?” he asked with a scowl.
“A great deal, I fancy. But he has told me that much. And I don't want you to treat me as though—as though I were just a kid, Mr. Reed, or a stranger. Of course,” I went on hurriedly, “I am a stranger in a way, but—but——”
“No, you are not, Miss Pryde; or at least you don't seem so to me. You've been a real friend, a friend in need, and and you're right; it isn't fair to lie to you. There is a good deal of pain, and I have to have opium at night. ”

“ Reed. You're very flattering.”
“Well, of course you can't understand what it has been for me to see you every day or so and to have you to talk to. It—it's made a lot of difference. It's cheered me up a whole lot, Miss Pryde. Even old Tully has noticed it and is tickled to death. You see, you are doing a great deal of good by just being alive, Miss Pryde—by being 'just me,' as you say.”
“I wish I could do more,” I said, trying hard not to let him see how pleased I was.
“You're doing a lot, my dear young lady, to make life endurable for two forlorn creatures. Surely, that's enough. ”