Dr. Jane Langford Latham, believing that her love for Dave Riley is not big enough for marriage — certainly not the all-encompassing love she had felt for Bill Latham — leaves Halesville, Indiana, for Central City, where she has been offered the post of Director of Out-Patient Medical and Nursing Service at City Hospital. In Central City, away from Dave, she feels she can come to a decision about her future and, at the same time, perform a valuable service.

But City Hospital has changed. Dr. Grady Blaine, an ambitious and self-seeking man, is now chief of staff, replacing the beloved Dr. Warren of Dr. Jane’s internship years at City. At every step of the way, Dr. Jane is opposed by Grady Blaine, and when, because of the needless death of a young girl in “Rivertown,” she becomes involved in an active campaign to clean up Central City’s slum district, Dr. Blaine’s hostility becomes an open and malevolent thing.

Homesick for Halesville — more homesick, too, for writer Dave Riley than she will acknowledge — Jane welcomes the opportunity to visit Johnson Memorial Hospital and talk with Dr. James Hanna, upon whose shoulders has fallen the full burden of Dr. Jane’s former practice. Dr. Hanna has a “case” he wishes to discuss with Jane, he says, but Jane finds that the case is a hypothetical one involving an article Dave Riley is writing…

Dr. Hanna’s ruse to get Dr. Jane back to Halesville works — her choice is made. She returns to Central City to complete the reforms she has started, secure in the knowledge that her real happiness lies in Halesville, working with Jim Hanna and loving the reporter-turned-writer whom Fate had sent thousands of miles to meet a dedicated young woman doctor in a lonely mission post in Africa.

Could the brilliant surgeon she loved love her?

Gran had said it herself: “Life isn’t going to be easy for you, Natalie. You feel things too deeply. You’re liable to be hurt, my dear.”

Then Gran died, and Natalie was alone…alone with her love for Dr. Bob Bradburn and her deep desire to become his nurse. Courage and determination carried her through nurse’s training, and part of her ambition became reality. Dr. Brad wanted her as his nurse, and she became invaluable to him…as his nurse. But in the meantime, he had married the beautiful but ruthless Marjorie. Natalie knew her love for Dr. Brad would never die. Could she face a lifetime of working with no hope that that love would be returned?

Grim duty forced Rietta to leave the life she loved — and face probable heartache.

Rietta Mendall, R.N., was perfectly happy. She was, in fact, in the middle of counting her blessings — her interesting work, her comfortable apartment — when tragedy struck. Her brother’s teenage son was in trouble, and Rietta’s help was needed. And when such a need existed, Rietta could not place her own happiness first.

She knew that her brother’s troubles would clear up in time. But her own way of life was drastically altered. To support herself now, she worked as a visiting nurse serving the trailer community. Her patients’ problems became her problems…and multiplied rapidly. Then romance beckoned…and Rietta knew it was the one problem she might not be able to solve!

What did this handsome surgeon, old enough to be her father, want of her? Did he expect her to be more than a devoted assistant?

Attractive Patricia Lloyd, R.N., had two problems — both of them doctors.

Dr. Jeffrey Wayne was handsome, mature and mysteriously drawn to Patricia, beyond the call of duty.

Dr. Bill Gregory was young, very much in love and intensely jealous.

Caught between the two, Patricia found her personal emotions — and professional duty — in sudden and grave danger.

Sidewalks.

The sidewalks of city streets; the sidewalks of any city; your city, mine. But not of any streets. Not the sidewalks of the manicured boulevards, the wide tree-bordered avenues. Not the sidewalks which lie, relatively immaculate, before the doorsteps of the rich; not those lightly trodden upon by eighteen-dollar, bench-made shoes, desecrated by the crass, if functional behavior, of leashed and high-hat dogs; nor yet the sidewalks decorated by the spotless uniforms of Generalissimos in the Doorman’s Army. Not these.

Just sidewalks, over which the same sky arches, but a sky made vocal with the hoarse shriek of the hurtling L’s, just sidewalks built on a common soil beneath which, like as not, the clamorous mole, the subway, weaves and burrows its vocal path. Just sidewalks, littered with paper, with casual garbage, marked with the pressure of countless feet, hurrying feet, feet which go unshod, feet protected against heat and cold by the makeshift leathers of the poor. Sidewalks, endless highways, leading to birth, to death, to success and to failure; leading to the cold, crowded windings of city rivers, leading out to freer, wider areas, leading — back…