Page 56 (1/1)

It didn'twas his forgetting the wounded et a wounded ian's terrified hare's eyes she hated John

And, as she sat there supporting his head with her shoulder, she thought again There must have been a wounded man in the house John had cootten hi back over his shoulder; looking at so but a wounded man Or a deadhe had seen; the last thing he had thought of before he made his dash It wasn't possible that he had left a wounded man in there, alive It was not possible

And all the ti herself that it was not possible she saoundedto the doorway, and his eyes, frightened; she felt his anguish in the otten Abandoned

She would have to go over to the house and see She must knohether the ently, from her shoulder She would have to wake hihtn't think she had left hiian roused himself to a sudden virile determination Madeerous Mademoiselle would be hit He played on her pity with an innocent, cunning cajolery "Mademoiselle must not leave me I do not want to be left"

"Only for one minute One little minute I think there's a wounded man, like you, Monsieur, in that house"

"Ah--h--A wounded rity of her purpose "If only I were not wounded, if only I could crawl an inch, I would go instead of Mademoiselle"

The wounded man lay on the floor of the room in his corner by the fireplace where John had left him His coat was rolled up under his head for a pillow He lay on his side, with humped hips and knees drawn up, and one hand, half clenched, half relaxed, on his breast under the drooped chin; so that at first she thought he was alive, sleeping She knelt down beside him and clasped his wrist; she unbuttoned his tunic and put in her hand under his shirt above the point of his heart He was certainly dead No pulse; no beat; no sign of breathing Yet his body arm still, and li