"Dead?" she murmured.
"No, but he's outside awfully shot, and he has been keeping himself alive just to see you. You will have to help, Helen, if you can."
He left her standing beside the table. She could not call the doctor. She could not speak. They came in with the stretcher, and as she saw its ghastly burden and gave a quick professional glance at his maimed body, the tender woman and the trained nurse struggled for the mastery. The nurse won. Swiftly she prepared the table, called the doctor and helped to lift him from the stretcher.
Zaidos and Velo left to rescue the man whose weight had kept the captain from bleeding to death. His scalp wound was serious but not dangerous, Zaidos decided, and they returned to the First Aid with lighter hearts.
The room was empty. Hazelden was not there. Zaidos' heart dropped. Had he died?
Helen answered the question in his face. She came to meet Zaidos. Her eyes shone, her cheeks were the loveliest pink. Her step was light.
"Well?" said Zaidos.
"More than well!" said Helen. "Oh, John, it is wonderful! Wonderful! And you brought me my happiness! I am to be transferred to the field hospital tomorrow, where I can nurse him myself. He will live; he must live! We could not talk, but he knew me. And I know everything is all right!"
"Certainly it's all right!" said Zaidos. "Didn't I tell you so? I knew just how it would be," and the hero of a single ballroom looked as wise as only a fellow could who had been dead-crazy over a girl all one evening.
"What are you going to do about things?" asked Zaidos. "Go on being engaged?"