"Now," she said, scarcely above a breath—"now, when I have just begun to see, it comes! And I have myself to thank for it."
She was so white it frightened me; besides, things were everlastingly sliding along with Bill.
"Oh, he's not dead!" I explained, quickly. "He mayn't even be badly hurt, but I felt sure you wanted to know."
Then the tears came. "Want to know?" she sobbed. "Of course I want to know. Oh, what a fool of a woman I've been! And to think of your coming to tell me at the risk of your life! I haven't deserved it! Where is Arthur? Can we go there? Can we go, Will? You don't believe he'll die? He mustn't! He can't!"
Last I saw of Saxton he was chuckling merrily over the doctor's mistake concerning the value of aces up. Unless he'd changed his mind in the meanwhile, he hadn't the remotest intention of dying.
"It's dodging through the lines, Mary, to get to him—risky."
She waved my objection off with an impatient hand, dried her eyes, and made ready.
"Come with me until I get some things together," she said, practical, in spite of her fire. I do sure like that combination.
"I'll stay here," says I. "You won't hurt me now, will you, Mr. Belknap?" This I remarked in a very youthful, pleading tone.
He said, "No," after a struggle. It didn't sound like anything you ever heard from a human throat.