“They’ve blown up the––the place,” she stammered, wiping her face with her gloved hand in a dazed sort of way.
“Are you badly hurt?” he asked unsteadily.
“No, I don’t think so–––”
He had led her as far as the avenue, now echoing with the clang of fire engines and the police patrol. And out of the darkness, from everywhere, swarmed the crowd that only a great city can conjure instantly and from nowhere.
Blood ran down her face from a cut over her temple. A tiny triangular bit of glass still glittered in the wound; and he removed it and gave her his handkerchief.
“Was Ilse there, too?” he asked.
“No. Nobody went to-night except myself.... Why were you there, Jim?”
“Why in God’s name did you go there all alone among those Reds!”
She shook her head wearily: