The rich autumn sun struck a shaft across the desk that warmed her chill hand, but Mrs. Greene shivered as she looked across the narrow street and steadied herself to accept the immediate future. II Dr. Stiff looked at the quiet elderly woman who was sitting on the other side of his desk, and chose his words carefully. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Greene, that I shall have to call upon your courage and fortitude to listen to what I cannot avoid telling you. I gather that your suspicions amounted almost to a certainty before you consulted me, and I am unfortunately forced to confirm them. There is a considerable growth in the left breast, which, owing to the state of your heart, can't be removed. That being so, we can only regard it as a definite signal which must not be ignored." He spoke gently, but the crude fact implicit in his words stuck out clearly. There was a moment's pause. Mrs. Greene's hands were folded in her lap; her throat felt a little dry, and for a moment the walls of the room wavered uncertainly towards her and the motes dancing in a streak of sun across the floor seemed to swell gigantically and overpoweringly. But as she cleared her throat and prepared to speak, they diminished and the room resumed its normal proportions. "Thank you," she said steadily. "I quite understand. You mean that I have cancer and you are not able to operate. How long can I expect to live?" Dr. Stiff looked distressed at the uncompromising question, and his hand hovered over the bell as he answered: "The disease is in its final stage, Mrs. Greene. You must have had many attacks of pain recently, and there won't be very many more." He pressed the bell as he spoke, and almost immediately a nurse appeared with a little tray containing a glass and a decanter of brandy. Mrs. Greene smiled. "No, thank you, Nurse," she said, and her voice had its natural buoyancy as she turned to Dr. Stiff. "My husband never liked me to drink spirits of any sort, and this has not been a shock to me. Indeed in some ways it is almost convenient." She thought of Roger and then asked abruptly. "Shall I live for six months?" Dr. Stiff shook his head. "It's impossible for me to give a definite date," he said. "But I think not more than three." Mrs. Greene pressed her hand to her treacherous breast as she thought of Mary and Roger's child that would be born in the Spring. "That is a disappointment to me," she said, "but only a very trivial one. My husband died eight years ago; we were very devoted to each other and since then I have often felt as if I were waiting with my hat and jacket on for some vehicle to take me to him. Now that fancy is gone; I see that the vehicle is my illness which will soon come to a conclusion, and I thank you very much for your consideration and kindness to me." She rose to go. For a moment Dr. Stiff held her hand as he said: