"All the same, you had better not go in to see him until after you have asked the doctor's advice. Last night was the psychological moment, and it would be a shame for you to undo all your good work," whispered Miss Wilson, her hand on the front door. "You haven't long to wait, the doctor will be here any minute now. Bye-by until to-night." Anne stationed herself at the window, and looked down into Gramercy Park. A mantle of snow overlay everything. And in the carefully dug-out paths children were playing. They had erected a snow fort, over which the statue of Edwin Booth brooded like an austere and arctic angel. A hail of snowballs from which arose shrill cries and laughter showered about the statue furiously. Anne smiled. What a picture the children made, with their rosy faces and brilliant-colored sweaters, against the blue-shadowed snow! She saw a nurse-girl approach and open the iron gate with a large key. How small the paradise! How carefully guarded! How long before these very children would be thrust forth from the gates into the sordid business of living? As if to reassure her, the big clock in the Madison Square tower boomed goldenly. Nine o'clock, and the doctor had not arrived yet. Anne sighed impatiently. She was not looking forward to her interview with the doctor. The situation was awkward. The more she thought about it, the more ill at ease she became. The febrile excitement of the past night, under control, she faced the situation dispassionately. Where was she drifting, and into what? In coming to Alexis' rescue, was she perhaps jeopardizing against the rocks her own hitherto well-steered little bark? Perhaps! She shrugged fatalistically, and going to the table, was about to take up a book when the door-bell rang. It was the doctor. The day-nurse, a plump and pleasant little person, let him in. Casting one penetrating glance at Anne, he passed through the studio hurriedly and entered the bedroom. With a feeling of relief, Anne reopened her book and tried not to listen. But Alexis' voice, though hoarse and weak, reached her plainly. It somehow conveyed a message of peace, as if its owner had attained some unhoped-for refuge. He is really better. He is going to live, she thought, exultantly. Oh, I only hope it keeps up. She clasped her hands in her lap feverishly, letting the three voices in the next room sweep over her. The dreaded interview proved absurdly simple after all. Brusquely uninterested in Anne, except for the effect he hoped she would have on his patient, the little doctor barked his orders without ceremony. The patient was decidedly better, but not yet out of danger. All unhappy excitement must be avoided. His mother and wife were not to see him until further orders, and, Anne herself, only for five minutes at a time. And at that as seldom as possible. However, she was to remain within call, as her presence was obviously of benefit to the case.