"Jack! Jack! is this—the end?"
"Hush—no—no! Keep still—perfectly still—you must not move."
"I am not—in pain—a little dizzy—nothing more, and my head feels light."
"Drink this and don't talk. As soon as you are a little recovered we will go home."
"Home! Jack!"
Oh, the wistful look in the deep blue eyes—the prophetic droop about the perfect mouth! It was almost more than he could bear.
"I will go with you myself if you will do what I tell you, keep absolutely quiet—your life depends upon it."
She looked up tremulously.
"I don't care—a—cent now," she whispered.
She bore the journey to Cecil Street better than they could hope, and the bleeding from the lungs had ceased.