We sat in silence, not to tire her. She lay flat on her back, her head on a pillow which was so low as to be only a pillow by courtesy. Her eyes would be fixed on the ceiling, and then she would look sideways at me, and that was when I seemed to see queer, funny things in her eyes. They were as though glistening with bits of things ... fear, pride, a sort of childish glee, a sort of childish naughtiness, a sort of childish shamefacedness. It was as though she was terrified of her new toy, and very proud of it, too--her returning life. And then the shamefacedness, an almost guilty look, as though she had just cheated some one out of something in a funny way. Not that she hadn’t been very clever either, her look seemed to say. And somehow I was made a fellow-conspirator in all this ... in the terror, pride, glee, mischief, shamefacedness with which she was deliciously playing with her new toy, returning life. She said suddenly, in an enormous voice which she had obviously been husbanding for the purpose: “No one wants me....” And I think, but I am not sure, that she would have giggled if she could. “Iris, you’ll have Masters in here if you go shouting like that.” “He didn’t want me, even....” “Who didn’t? Masters didn’t?” “No. God.” “Oh, I see,” I said. She panted breathlessly, eager to be talking: “I made my application, all ... all in order. Forms all filled in and everything. But ... Oh, they weren’t impressed. Not a bit, they weren’t----” “Oi, you’re talking too much, Iris!” “Oi to you. Listen.... The old man said to me: ‘Well, young woman, and what do you want?’ I wasn’t afraid, not a bit. Had all my forms ready and everything.... ‘What do I want, Father?’ says I. ‘Why, I’m as good as dead, that’s what I am. Doctor’s face all of a blur, nurse’s face all of a blur, temperature 106--why, I _am_ dead, if it comes to that!’ ‘Nonsense,’ says God. ‘Never saw a woman more alive in all my life. Ho, Gabriel! Expel this woman!’ ‘Yes, but!’ I said, ‘I want to die, I do, I do!’ ‘In that case,’ says He, ‘death will be a great disappointment to you. We want none of your sort here, young woman. Ho, Michael, Gabriel! Eject this sinner. She’s still alive....’” After a long pause I found those great eyes looking at me very seriously. She whispered: “Owe it to you. I mean, life. Thank you.” “Iris, to me! My dear, what rot!” “Not rot at all. If you hadn’t been kind enough to come round again that night to ... inquire, he’d have called and found only that old nun there and she would have said ... _assez bien_, and away he’d have gone. And me, too.... See? “_And_,” she said, “that ptomaine poisoning. You dear, you dear! Oh, how I like you when you’re not looking! Genius, I call that. And when ... Masters told me, I laughed so they had to give me morphia. Darling, these _piqures_! I got holes all over me....” “_Piqure du cœur_,” I let slip. “_Piqure du_ what?” “Nothing,” I said.