"I don't care! I don't care! I don't care! You hush! You keep still!" She pushes him into the room so violently that he falls, coughing terribly, to the floor. A look of fleeting horror crosses her face but she bangs and bolts the door. She draws the curtain more carefully over The Man, flings open the front door and calls above the clamor of the on-coming train—
"He's gone! Gone! We tried to keep him—quick—through the Pass! Don't you see the hoof-prints?"
The posse wheels and thunders away. The train roars in. The Man, coming out from under the curtain, snatches up her thin hand, kisses it, dashes out. She forces herself to take the message out to the trainmen. She comes back, stands in strained and breathless listening.... The train pulls noisily out.
Little by little her tension relaxes. The magic robe of youth, renewed, falls from her thin shoulders. At a sound from the inner room she gasps, clutches her hands together on her breast, her eyes wide with terror and remorse, starts running to her brother.
Curtain!
Can you see it, Sally? Do you think it will "get across?" Will I be able to "put it over"?
Now, convoyed by Rodney Harrison, I'm off to the Booking Office with a 'script, enchantingly typed in black and scarlet, under my arm and hope in my heart.
Jauntily,
Jane.
Later.