She said, “I want to stay here.”
Fenner smiled unpleasantly. “I’m not going to be your nursemaid,” he said. “I gotta lot to do.”
She said, “I’m safer here.”
Fenner paused, thought, and then said, “I see.” He went over to the bed and pulled the sheet down. Then he picked her up very gently, sitting her in a chair. She chewed her lip while he did this. He took the scalpel and cut the dress down each side. One side of her white shorts showed very red.
She said, “What a mess,” and went so white he thought she was going to faint.
“Hold it,” he said sharply, and stood her up. “Get your pants off,” he said; “it ain’t as if you and I are exactly strangers.”
She put her face against his and nibbled his ear. “You’re cute,” she mumbled in his neck.
He jerked his head away. “For God’s sake, cut that!” When she had stepped out of the shorts, he sat her down and wiped the blood on her thigh, then he carried her over to the bed and put her under the sheet. He was glad to get her covered up.
She lay with her red-gold head on the pillow and looked up at him. She looked suddenly very young and defenseless. She said, “I want to whisper.”
Fenner shook his head. “Try another one. That’s got whiskers on it.”