She opened the door of a small, quiet room, and signed to the orderly to go away. Ross was little altered, but his face had lost its colour, and there was a drawn look round his mouth, and his eyes were very tired. He stirred as the door closed on the orderly. ’It’s Meg,’ he said faintly and smiled. ’How sweet of you to come, how quick you’ve been, darling.’ The sister gave him a little brandy, which revived him. ’She’s been so beautifully kind,’ he said, as she prepared to go, then as she went she whispered,— ’Sponge his face and hands after the pain, and give him a little brandy when he is exhausted. I can do no more for him than you can, and he will love to have you to himself. Ring if you want me, I am close at hand.’ I put my arms around him. ’So happy now,’ he sighed. ’Are you in pain, my darling?’ ’Better,’ he answered. ’I feel now like the lady in _Hard Times_, as if there were a pain somewhere in the room, but I’m not perfectly sure that I’ve got it!’ ’Mrs Gradgrind?’ I said. ’How well you know your Dickens, little ’un. I always thought that such a funny joke. Don’t hold me, darling, you must be so tired. Sit down beside me.’ Presently he said,— ’You might see poor old Sam to-morrow, he’s somewhere in the hospital. He wants to marry the S.P.’ And he smiled a little. ’Ought you to talk so much?’ I asked. ’It doesn’t matter when I can,’ he answered, ’there are such a lot of things I want to say. That night when we were in the trench Sam said, "If we get out of this alive I want to marry Emma, if you’ve no objection, sir." ’"Who on earth," I said, "is Emma, Brown?" ’"Miss Margaret’s parlourmaid, you know, sir." ’"Oh, the S.P., yes. Well, Sam, why shouldn’t you if the lady’s willing?" ’"If you’ve no objection, sir," he said again. ’"You’re not by any chance asking for my permission, are you, Sam?" ’"Yes, I am, sir." ’"Well, you have it," I replied, laughing. "I won’t forbid the banns, and good luck, Sam, you always were a funny ass." ’"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," he said—you know his funny way, Meg, ah—it’s coming—on again——’ And then a bout of pain, and although I loved him so there was nothing I could do but watch and wipe the pouring sweat and pray for God to take him. When it passed I offered him some brandy, but he said,— ’No, keep it for the bad turns.’ Ah, God, was there worse than that? He spoke of Michael and daddy, and his little Gidg., and sent messages to Nannie and Charlie and one or two others, and then suddenly there was nothing in the world for him again but pain, and I could only watch and wait and pray and agonise. The sister came in with some milk and food for me, but as I shook my head she, with a glance of pity at the bed, was taking it away when Ross opened his eyes and signed for her to leave it. He let me sponge his face and hands but ’No, no brandy, just a little water.’