“Martin"--the voice of her broke in upon his dreaming! She stood in the doorway and he wondered if that, too, was a part of his dream.
“Martin,” she said again, a little timidly. Then she came into the room, a familiar little figure in her brown suit and little brown hat pulled over her red hair.
“Oh, hello,” he answered, “come in if you care to.”
“I am in.” She laughed nervously, a strange way for her to be laughing, but the man did not take heed of it. Had she come to laugh at him for being a fool? he thought.
“Sit down,” he invited coolly. She sat on the chair by his bed, her coat buttoned and unbuttoned by her restless fingers as she stole glances at the bandaged head of the man.
“It’s good of you to come,” he began. At that she turned and began to speak rapidly.
“Martin, I must tell you! You must let me tell you! I know what you did, how you saved Lyman. I think it was wonderful of you, just wonderful!”
“Ach.” He turned his flushed face toward her then. “There’s noticing wonderful about that.”
“I think there is,” she insisted, scarcely knowing what to say. She remembered his old aversion to being lionized.
“Tell me why you did it,” she asked suddenly. She had to say something!