break gently to a woman that her husband was dead, had called up to the window from the garden: "Good-morning, Widow Brown." So I started my farewell letter to Ella :
"Good-morning, Widow Lovegrove."
I never got any further. The haemorrhage broke out again and I rang for Benham. She came yawning, buttoning up her dressing-gown, pushing back her undressed hair, but when she saw what was happening her whole note changed. This time I was neither alarmed nor confused, even watching her with interest. She rang for more help, got ice, gave rapid instructions about telephoning for a doctor.
"Will you wait for an injection until he comes, or would you like me to give it to you?"
"You."
"Very well, lie quite quiet, I shan't be a minute."
I lay as quietly as circumstances would allow whilst she brewed her witches' broth.
"What dreams may come."
"Hush, do keep quiet."
" Mind you give me enough."
" I shall give you the same dose he does, a quarter of a grain."
" It won't stop it this time."
"Oh, yes! it will."
She gave the injection as well, or better than Dr. Kennedy. I hardly felt the prick, and when she
