“Good God!” he said, “don't scream like that! They'll hear you clear to Fiftieth Street.”
The girl had staggered back against the wall, was supporting herself there with outspread hands.
“Mr. Mann—you frightened me! And—and—” Her eyes wandered from his white face to his shirt-front. That had been white. It was now spotted red with blood.
He stared down at it, fascinated.
“Please, Mr. Mann, will you lie down?”
She hurried to clear a heap of garments off the sofa: then she took his arm and steadied him as he walked across the room.
“You won't let me call a doctor, Mr. Mann?”
“Oh, no! Don't call anybody! Keep your head shut.”
“But—but—”
“Here, help me with these studs.”