But the head nurse had seen hundreds of young girls suddenly become aware of mortality. For the rest of the day she assigned Miss Anderson to cover the most disagreeable of the ward’s patients, men and woman brimming with bitter, complaining life.

Meomartino was waiting for Peggy Weld when she came hurrying into the hospital.

“Hi,” he said.

“Good morning. Do you know how my sister is?”

“Sit down for a minute and talk to me.”

“It’s happened, hasn’t it,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said.

“Poor Mellie.” She turned and walked away.

“Peg,” he said, but she shook her head and kept walking, out of the hospital.

Several hours later she came to collect her sister’s things. She was pale but dry-eyed, he saw, which worried him. He had the feeling she was the kind of woman who would wait until she was completely alone, even if it took weeks to achieve the necessary privacy, and then become hysterical.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ve just been walking.”

They simply sat for a little while.

“She deserved better than that,” she said. “She really did. You should have known her when she was well.”

“I wish I had. What are you going to do now?” he asked gently.

She shrugged. “The only thing I know. After . . . everything . . . I’ll call my agent and tell him I’m ready to go back to work.”

“That’s good,” he said, his relief in his voice.

She looked at him curiously. “What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry. I overheard a conversation . . .”

She looked at him and smiled wistfully. “My sister was very impractical. My brother-in-law wouldn’t have me on a platter,” she said. “He thinks I’m a loose lady. To tell the truth I’ve gotten so I can’t stand the stuffy sonofabitch.”

She stood and held out her hand. “Goodbye, Rafe Meomartino,” she said, not attempting to mask her regret.

He took her hand and thought of the senseless time-patterns in which human lives crossed one another, wondering what would have happened if he had met this woman before the night Liz had taken a drunken stranger in out of the rain.

“Goodbye, Peggy Weld,” he said, letting go.

That afternoon, with Dr. Longwood absent and Dr. Kender presiding, the service met in Mortality Conference, devoting the entire session to the case of Melanie Bergstrom.

Dr. Kender faced the issue squarely, attributing death to infection-susceptibility produced by the administration of too much immunosuppressive drug. “Dr. Silverstone suggested dosages of 100 mgs.,” he said. “I decided the dosages should be 130 mgs.”

“In your opinion, would pneumonia have resulted if you had given her the 100-mg. dosages suggested by Dr. Silverstone?” Dr. Sack asked.