"And what happened to you?" asked Sandra caustically. "Did you step into an open port in the dark?"
"Frankly, I was hit by a falling busbar—"
"Probably the real cause of this whole failure."
There was fire and blood in Whitlock's eye as he looked at Sandra Drake. Actual bloodshed was averted by a very scant margin when Enid McBride entered and stepped before Sandra, cutting off any attempt of Whitlock's to advance upon the red-headed female with intent to inflict damage.
Enid McBride was three or four years older than the other woman, and it must be reluctantly admitted that she was not the four-alarm all-out beauty that was capable of matching looks with Sandra. On the other—and most important—hand, Enid had the ability to make men and women like her; in her less boisterous way, Enid's charm and personality made itself felt even before she spoke to Sandra.
"You're needed," she told Sandra quietly.
"For what?" asked the Drake girl, and her cool contralto sounded scratchy in contrast.
"We've a number of hurt men here and we need help. You're elected."
"I've never helped a man in my life."
"You are getting no younger," said Enid with a short laugh. "I'd say it was about time you started."