“Badly? Is Wilson hurt badly?”
“I don’t know. I—I’ve been sitting here. You—you have been so terribly quiet for such a long time, Mr. Pitt.”
“And who’s back there? Who’s doing the shooting on our side?”
“All of them. Pierce, and the negro, and Dr. Olson, and George.”
I opened the door and stepped out.
“Oh! Oh, you mustn’t,—Mr. Pitt! Really you mustn’t. Go back—what are you going to do?”
I laughed.
“George mustn’t be allowed to risk his life, you know.”
She recoiled with a sudden wilting, as a child before an unexpected blow.
“Oh!” she moaned. “Oh! How can you?”