The Web Weaver Read Online Free PDF Page A

nose, dear, and don’t cry. It will do no one any good.” She complied loudly. “Have you no relative or friend who could help care for the child during the day?”
    She shook her head. “No one, ma’am.”
    I sighed, then clenched my teeth. Violet seized my arm. “You look so weary.” She took her purse and turned sternly to the girl. “You must work, I suppose, so that you and your child can live?”
    The girl nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “If you did not have to work, would you promise not to give the baby Godfrey’s Cordial?”
    She thrust her jaw forward. “But I ’ave to work.”
    Violet took a gold sovereign from her purse. “Not necessarily. This should get you by for a while, and if the baby is better I will give you another, then another.” The girl stared in amazement at the coin. “Will you promise me?”
    The girl again put her fist over her mouth, then nodded.
    “Take it, then.”
    The girl clenched her fist about the coin, then clamped her hand over her chest. She stared at Violet in disbelief as if an angel had suddenly appeared before her.
    “Bring him here in a month, and if he is better, you will have another coin. The doctor will see to it.”
    The girl nodded wildly. “Yes, ma’am.” She put the coin in her tiny purse, then took the baby, who had hardly moved.
    “Wait,” I said. “You must stop the Godfrey’s only gradually.”
    I gave her instructions on how to taper off the dose and had her repeat them. She stammered them out, then curtsied first to me, then Violet. “Thank you, ma’am. Bless you for savin’ me and my babe.”
    Violet would not seem to look at her. “Remember your promise.”
    “Oh, I will, ma’am—I swear.” She turned, slid aside the cloth curtain of the screen, and departed.
    I sat down on my desk once more. “I too thank you, Violet. I have often thought... If only I could hand out fistfuls of money, more of my patients would live. I don’t know what to do with such cases. They make me so... angry . Angry at everyone—the stupid girls, their wretched employers, our proud, self-righteous countrymen... Pardon me, I know it is late for the soapbox. Why do you not sit down for a moment? I think we are actually finished for the day.”
    Violet stared longingly at the chair. “Perhaps I shall, but only for a moment. My corset is so tightly laced I fear I cannot both breath and sit simultaneously.”
    “I warned you to wear your stays loose.”
    “But then I would need a new wardrobe because none of my dresses would fit. Alas, Dame Fashion is a stern mistress. We of the gentler sex must keep ourselves ever beautiful, must we not?”
    She said it so gravely, that I gave her an incredulous stare. She began to laugh in earnest. “The look you gave me! Oh, now I shall never be able to sit.”
    I also began to laugh. Our laughter had a certain frayed, lunatic edge to it. We had passed a very long day together.
    The curtain opened, and a hesitant face appeared. Blonde curls showed under the volunteer nurse’s cap, as well as rosy cheeks and blue eyes. The face radiated youth, health and eagerness, a combination all my poor patients lacked.
    “Dr. Doudet Vernier?”
    “Yes, Jenny?”
    “Is everything... well?”
    “Oh, yes. Violet and I were only... We are fine. Are we finished?”
    “Yes, Doctor.”
    “Good.” I stood up and set my stethoscope on the desk.
    Jenny was watching me carefully, the hint of a frown showing on her broad, smooth forehead. Her father was a well-to-do merchant who sold fine china and silverware, a proud man who had not forgotten his humble origins and who did not aspire to social snobbery. His wife was a bit insipid for my taste, but Jenny was both intelligent and good-hearted. I had met her at a party six months ago and casually discussed the clinic with her. Next week and every week since, she had come to the clinic on my day there. We had talked about women andthe medical profession on several occasions. Jenny was