"He is coming here towards us, Shirley!"
"Towards the pump, that is to say, for the purpose of washing his hands and his forehead, which has got a scratch, I perceive."
"He bleeds, Shirley. Don't hold me. I must go."
"Not a step."
"He is hurt, Shirley!"
"Fiddlestick!"
"But I must go to him. I wish to go so much. I cannot bear to be restrained."
"What for?"
"To speak to him, to ask how he is, and what I can do for him."
"To tease and annoy him; to make a spectacle of yourself and him before those soldiers, Mr. Malone, your uncle, et cetera. Would he like it, think you? Would you like to remember it a week hence?"