"Back in a moment!" she said, flying away.
He lay back and closed his sound eye; the other was already closed. And as he lay there, awaiting her return, the Idea came. He could never win this glorious creature by simply telling her he loved her. He would have to take her by storm, carry her off her feet—and he was only a mollycoddle among the women. Still, he knew what he knew. Presently he smiled; at least it was meant for a smile. How the deuce would he be able to kiss her when the time came, with his lips puffed and bleeding? The glory of her!
Obliquely he could see Malachi. "The little son-of-a-gun! And he hasn't the least idea that he saved his master from being as beastly as the Hun.... Close shave!... Bob's voice, calling out the name of the man who had killed him, like that!... I'll be a trig-looking individual when I strike Washington to-morrow!" ruefully.
Hilda returned with basin, alcohol, lint, bandages, and salves. And he let her have her way with him. After she had bandaged the gash on his forehead and his raw knuckles, she wet her finger-tips with alcohol and ran them back and forth through his hair. Not since his mother's death had this happened; and never had he experienced such a thrill. He longed to seize the hand and kiss it, but he conquered the desire.
By and by he spoke. "The blue-prints, with No. 9, are in the hollow under Malachi's basin. They are in a rubber sack such as you roll up slickers in. I'll take them out when I go. Be sure you talk a little to him every day. He likes it. He's a gossip. Rice and fruits and nuts; he's frugal. It will buck me up to know that he is in good hands."
"The funny little green bird! I'll take care of him until you come back."
"That's odd. Somehow I know I'm coming back.... Where's this man Rubin live?"
"Rubin? He has an apartment near by." Rubin? What had Rubin to do with this hour, resentfully!