But that does not alter the case."
"Carley, we're not well acquainted," went on Flo, more carefully feeling
her way, "and I'm not your kind. I don't know your Eastern ways. But I know
what the West does to a man. The war ruined your friend--both his body and
mind. . . . How sorry mother and I were for Glenn, those days when it
looked he'd sure 'go west,' for good! . . . Did you know he'd been gassed
and that he had five hemorrhages?"
"Oh! I knew his lungs had been weakened by gas. But he never told me about
having hemorrhages."
"Well, he shore had them. The last one I'll never forget. Every time he'd
cough it would fetch the blood. I could tell! . . . Oh, it was awful. I
begged him not to cough. He smiled--like a ghost smiling--and he whispered,
'I'll quit.' . . . And he did. The doctor came from Flagstaff and packed
him in ice. Glenn sat propped up all night and never moved a muscle. Never
coughed again! And the bleeding stopped. After that we put him out on the
porch where he could breathe fresh air all the time. There's something
wonderfully healing in Arizona air. It's from the dry desert and here it's
full of cedar and pine. Anyway Glenn got well. And I think the West has
cured his mind, too.
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