Thessalie sighed, closed her eyes.
“She’s about all in,” whispered Westmore. And, to Dulcie: “Let me take her. I’ll carry her to the car.”
At that Thessalie opened her eyes again and the old, faintly humorous smile glimmered out at him as he stooped and lifted her from the grass.
“Can I really trust myself to your arms, Jim?” she murmured.
“You’d better get used to ’em,” he retorted. “You’ll never get away from them again—I can tell you that right now!”
“Oh.... In that case, I hope they’ll be—comfortable—your arms.”
“Do you think they will be, Thessa?”
“Perhaps.” She gazed into his eyes very seriously from where she lay cradled in his powerful arms.
“I’m tired, Jim.... So sore and bruised.... When he was choking me I tried to think of you—believing it was the end—my last conscious thought——”