‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘I was sorry for you.’
He bit down on his lower lip. No one had ever said that to him before. Sorry for him! He didn’t like that. He didn’t want her damned pity!
‘You’d better get out,’ he said furiously. ‘There’l be shooting.’
She turned back to the window.
‘They may not come,’ she said.
Cautiously, Baird touched his wounded side. He wondered if he was still bleeding. His fingers moved over a wad, bound tightly against his side. He realised she must have taken off his coat and shirt. He touched the pad wonderingly.
‘Did you stop the bleeding?’ he asked.
‘Yes. You’d better not talk. You may be heard. The wal s are very thin.’
‘Is it bad?’ he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘It feels bad.’
‘It’s bad enough, but the bleeding’s stopped. You mustn’t move. It may start again.’