"It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night...
"Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"
But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.
A good story. Even though I prefer language with a little less sugar when dealing with certain matters. (Good grief, Hemingway, is that you?)