"
"O Lord!" cried James Minturn.
"Yes I know," said Mrs. Winslow. "Call on Him! You need Him! There is no
question but that He put into her head the idea of setting a home for the
healing of little children, in the most exclusive residence district of
Multiopolis, where women of millions are forced to see it every time they
look from a window or step from their door. Have you seen it yourself,
James?"
"Naturally I wouldn't haunt the location."
"I would, and I did!" said Mrs. Winslow. "A few days ago I went over it
from basement to garret. You go and see it. And I recall now that her
lawyer was there, with sheets of paper in his hand, talking with workmen.
I think he's working for Nellie and that she is probably directing the
changes and personally evolving a big, white, shining reparation."
"It's a late date to talk about reparation," he said.
"Which simply drives me to the truism, 'better late than never!' and to
the addition of the comment that Nellie is only thirty and that but ten
years of your lives have been wasted; if you hurry and save the remainder,
you should have fifty apiece coming to you, if you breathe deep, sleep
cool, and dine sensibly," said Mrs.
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