But nakedness, thou detestable town!
THAT was an appalling night. René lay with his wound roughly staunched. Ann crouched in the darkness by the bedside, fondling his hand, clinging to him, occasionally weeping. Both watched the light come creeping over the roofs and chimneys. Neither could say a word. Their eyes met, and hers were fixed hungrily on his face like a dog’s that has been whipped for fighting. She looked so scared that he desired only to reassure her.
“Ann,” he said.
She kissed his hand and fondled it, and pressed it to her cheek, and bathed it in her tears and kissed away the tears.
“You’d better fetch Kilner,” he said. “He’ll know what to do.”
“Don’t let him know how it happened. Don’t let him know I did it.”
“No. Go and fetch him.”
“Oh! I thought you was dead. I thought you was dead. Oh! Renny, dear, what should I ha’ done if you’d been dead, my dear?”
“Go and fetch Kilner. He’ll tell us what to do.”
She brought Kilner and left them together. René made a clumsy attempt to shield Ann in a very incoherent account of the affair. Kilner saw through it but acquiesced in the intention.