"Where is he?"
"He lies at his father's lodging. Observe, madame: I have said—he is not yet dead. Whether he lives rests, I believe to God, upon what you may be to him."
"Then he will be well enough," she sobbed as she laughed.
"Oh! I believe in your power," says McBean with a twist of a smile.
She stayed a moment by the door and flung her arms wide. "What I am—it is all for him."
Captain McBean left alone, took snuff. "A splendid wild cat—and that mouse of a Harry," says he.
CHAPTER XXXIII
REMORSE OF COLONEL BOYCE
Captain McBean was strutting to and fro for the benefit of his impatience when Mr. O'Connor returned to him. "Patrick, you look morose. Had he the legs of you?"
"He had not," says O'Connor, nursing his hand. "But he had a beautiful nose. Sure, it was harder than you would think. And I have sprained my thumb."