He lay quiet a moment, but sleep would not come. A score, a hundred thoughts confusedly crowded his brain.
And once more looking up at her in the dim blue gloom of the hut where they were, he breathed a question:
“Were you badly hurt, dear, in--in the battle?”
“No, Allan. Just stunned, that's all. Not even wounded. Be quiet now or I'll scold!”
He raised his arms to her and, weak though he was, took her to his breast and held her tight, tight.
“Thank God!” he whispered. “Oh, I love you! I love you so! If you'd been killed--”
She felt his tears hot upon his wasted cheeks, and unloosened his arms.
“There, there!” she soothed him. “You'll get into a fever again if you don't lie still and try not to think! You--”
“When was it? Yesterday?” he interrupted.
“Sh-h-h-h! No more questions now.”