He began again:
"I ... I never take an Australian's salute in the street without remembering ... that!... I had to lie there ... couldn't lift ... finger. Five of them, were stretched out ... killed.... Just for me! My God! Think of it——" He seemed about to break down once more.
"Hush!" Mrs. Cartwright said, steadily. She bent her eyes upon his. "Hush! One can't think like that. It's impossible."
"Those splendid chaps——"
"S'sh! Remember only that they were killed doing one of the finest things a soldier is called to do," interrupted the soldier's widow, quickly. "Remember that their people would be proud to know how it happened. They volunteered to save you; took their chance. Think how your own people would have been proud, Mr. Awdas——"
"Yes," he muttered, letting her hold his eyes, clinging to her for the strength that had slipped.
She repeated, firmly: "When you see Australians in the street, think only of that!"
"Yes," said the youngster, simply. "Yes.... All right, I will."
When he next spoke there was a thought less strain in his husky voice.
"I'm everlastingly sorry, routing people up like this. They got quite fed-up in the hospital.... I couldn't help it.... Falling, falling—oh, it's beastly.... So weird, too.... You wouldn't think.... Well, I couldn't take more than about two and a half minutes to crash, could I?"