"The filthy ones are going to war. Come closer, Lief. I want to see you."
Lindstrum approached the bed. Doris turned to Levine.
"The pack is going to war. Did you see their eyes shining in the street, and their mouths gloating? A new terror, eh?"
She threw her hands into her hair and her eyes centered suddenly on Lindstrum. He was standing over her. Doris began to laugh and to climb out of bed. She stood up barefooted in her night gown, her black hair down and pointed out of the window.
"Don't." Levine took her hand. "You'll catch cold."
Her eyes were lustrous. Lindstrum caught her in his arms. She had leaned toward him as if she were falling. Her body was vividly hot. He held her and she began to laugh.
"Better lie down," he whispered.
The laugh grew louder. Her hand with its fingers extended and pointing, wavered toward the window. She tried to talk but the laughter in her throat prevented. She hung loosely in his arms, laughing and waving her hands.
"The window," she gasped, "look out and see!"
"We had better get her into bed," Levine whispered. Lindstrum nodded. But Doris pulled herself from his hold. She stumbled and fell to her knees before the window. The room was dark and the street lights threw a faint glare over her face. She knelt with her hands to her neck and her eyes swinging.