“Dying?” Nancy whispered. “He can hardly live many more minutes with these injuries. Has he any relations here?” “I am his wife.” “My poor girl,” said the doctor quickly. “I didn’t realise that. But I couldn’t have hidden the truth. He must lie here. He’s unconscious. Even to move him to a dressing-room would probably kill him.” The group round the dying man moved away and left him alone with his wife and the doctor, on that silent bright unnatural stage. “And is there nothing we can do?” she asked. “Nothing, my poor girl. It is kinder to leave him unconscious and not try to revive him. He will suffer less.” But presently Bram’s lips moved, and Nancy bending low to his mouth heard the dim voice speaking with a fearful effort. “I’m dying—Nancy darling—I wish—I wish....” The dim voice died away. “Oh, my only love, my darling, what do you wish? Do you want to see Letizia?” “No—no—better not—not kind for baby girls to see death—better not—better not—Mrs. Pottage very kind—kind and good—I wish—I wish....” Again the dim voice was lost. “What, my precious one? What do you wish?” “Nancy—if things are difficult—we haven’t saved much money—difficult—go to Caleb—too bitter about my people—too hard—faults on both sides—Nancy, kiss me once—quick—quick—I don’t think I shall know soon if you kiss me....” She touched his cold lips with hers. “Such a darling wife—always such a darling—very happy together—happy memories—your father’s speech—yes, Caleb will look after you if things very difficult—give my love to grandmamma—always kind to me—happy memories—Nancy! Nancy! I wish—oh, my own Nancy, I do wish....” The dim voice was lost in the great abyss of eternity that stretched beyond this fantastic ordinary street, beyond this silent bright unnatural stage. “Sweetheart, what do you wish? What do you wish?” But the Clown was dead. CHAPTER XII LOOKING FOR WORK