I had noticed at her neck when I saw her in my consulting room. She would never allow it to be removed, but gave no reason for her insistence. I have seen her hand now and then move up to touch it, just as she had done during our first interview.
I was with her when she died. As I entered the room there was still the same expectant glance at the door. Her lips, dry and brown, appeared to be shaping the question, "A letter for me?" There was no need to answer "No." At the very last—with a display of strength that amazed me—she turned over with her face to the wall as if she wished to be alone; then, in a voice louder than I had known her to be capable of for days, she cried out," Oh, Frank! Frank!" and in a moment later she was dead.
Her death was certified, with unconscious accuracy, as due to "heart failure."
Here was a mystery, and with it a realization of how little we knew of this lady who had died because she wished to die. I was aware that her husband's christian name was William, but beyond that I knew practically nothing of him. The sister of the nursing home had both written and telegraphed to the husband, but no reply had been received. It was afterwards ascertained that he
