human
Other refuge have I none,
gpt
Hangs my helpless soul on thee, says the deep passionate voice, and the eyes say things even more tender to eyes that falter only because they are faint with joy. In the short interval the moving finger of Mrs. Nesbit goes up, and then comes a rattling of the great front door. A moment later it is opened and the flushed face of Grant Adams is seen. He is collarless, and untidy; he rushes into the room crying,
human
O, doctor--doctor, come--our baby--he is choking. The youth sees Margaret, and with passion cries:
gpt
Kenyon--Kenyon--the baby, he is dying; for God's sake--Mag, where is the Doctor?