She had even seemed to be better than usual,
for the people in their extraordinary costumes, particularly the opera
singers, had amused her, and she had returned to the court of the hotel
and listened with interest to the various "experiences." Finally they had
climbed the four flights of stairs to their rooms and he had helped her to
dress--her maid had disappeared. They had remained until the afternoon when
the uncontrolled fires in the region behind the hotel alarmed them, and
with what belongings they could carry they had gone up to the St. Francis
Hotel, where they engaged rooms and left their portmanteaux, intending to
climb to the top of the hill, if Marian were able, and watch the fire.
Half way up the hill she had fainted and he had carried her into a house
whose door stood open. There was no one in the house, and after a futile
attempt to revive her, he had run back to the hotel to find a doctor. But
among the few people that had the courage to remain so close to the fire
there was no doctor. The hotel clerk gave him an address but told him
not to be too sure of finding his man at home as all the physicians were
probably attending the injured, helping to clear the threatened hospitals,
or at work among the refugees, any number of women having embraced the
inopportune occasion to become mothers.
The doctor whose address was given him not only was out but his house was
deserted; and, distracted, he returned to his sister.
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