“Right there in yer side,” said Mary, indicating the place.
“Oh, yes; that’s where Dan Nolan kicked me.”
“Where what?” cried Mary, her eyes flashing.
And Allan related in detail the story of his encounter with Nolan.
Before he had finished, Mary was pacing up and down the chamber like a caged tigress, her hands clasping and unclasping, her features working convulsively. Allan, in the carefully darkened room, did not notice her agitation, and continued on to the end.
“You lay still,” she said, hoarsely, when he had ended; “I’ll be back in a minute,” and she hurried down the stair.
Once out of his sight, her self-control gave way completely; a dry sobbing shook her, a sobbing not of grief but of sheer fury. Jack was sitting listlessly by the window when she burst into the room.
“Why, what is it, Mary?” he cried, starting to his feet. “Is he worse? He can’t be! Th’ doctor said—”
“Jack,” said Mary, planting herself before her husband, “I want you t’ promise me one thing. If you iver git yer hands on Dan Nolan, kill him as you would a snake!”
“What’s Nolan been doin’ now?” he asked, staring in astonishment at her working features.