"'And the greatest of these is charity?'" he said strongly and clearly.
The nurse hurried to his side, but it was many moments before he again aroused and asked for Rupert.
"Now, and alone," he insisted, when she demurred, urging rest.
Even in his helplessness he was compelling. The nurse went in search of Rupert, who had kept vigil in the kitchen, scoffing at the suggestion of bed while that battle was being waged in the other room.
Gerard turned his fever-burnished eyes upon his small mechanician's sullen face, when that visitor entered. Both men understood perfectly well the contest of wills about to ensue. Both were coolly determined and prepared with the fine weapon of mutual knowledge of one another.
"There's a silver case on the table; get me a cigarette and light it, will you?" requested Gerard, in his low, unsure voice.
Rupert complied. He had not altogether escaped, himself, with mere scratches; he limped as he came across to place the cigarette in the languid fingers.
"I guess there ain't any special need to ask if it's hurting bad, when you're wanting these dopes," he drew grim inference. "Here."
"It is, all the time. Thanks. I didn't bring you here to talk about that, when you should be asleep, though. Rupert, no more is to be said about Corrie Rose. There has been too much of that already, I can see."
Rupert's black eyes hardened and narrowed to lines of glinting jet.