The wounded man stirred and groaned faintly.
She called: "Lie down, Butch; I'm busy. Go on, Bard."
"If you keep a mirror it's a wall decoration—not for personal use."
"Maybe this is an old method, Bard; but around this place it'd be a quick way of gettin' shot."
"Angry?"
"You'd peeve a mule."
"This was only an introduction. The next thing is to sit close beside you and shift the lamp so that the light would shine on your face; then take your hand—"
He suited his action to his word.
"Let go my hand, Bard. It's like the rest of me—not a decoration but for use."
"Afraid of me, Sally?"