Dolores was clinging closely to Alice’s hand. In these unfamiliar surroundings she was at a loss to move alone.
“I did,” she answered Jim. “I tried . . . but there was so much noise. They could not hear me.”
“Try now,” said Dr. Weatherby.
“I will. I am.” She stood motionless, hands to her forehead.
There was a long silence. Then she said, “I think . . . yes, someone thought to me, The Man of Language will come to you.”
“Is that all, Dolores?”
“Yes. That’s all. It’s gone.”
“The Man of Language!” Jim exclaimed. “An interpreter! Dolores, what about that young man and girl who were in distress? They were out here, weren’t they?”
“I don’t know. I never get their thoughts now.”
“Try.”