“I sent her to the drug store.”
“Yes. She fainted. She was bringing these things. They've carried her into Miss Dunson's room.”
She opened the parcels.
He watched her. He had forgotten that she was so pretty, that she had so much personality even off-stage. The turbulence in his heart seemed all at once to be dying down. A little glow was setting up there now. The little glow was growing. There was, after all, a great deal between him and Grace. He had treated her shabbily, o: course. He hadn't known how to avoid that, She was a dear to be so sweet about it.... The way she had rushed to him, the feel of her firm smooth hand on his cheek, the fact that she had, right now, in the very moment of her triumph, forgotten herself utterly—that was rather wonderful. A fine girl, Grace!
She came to him again; opened his singlet and examined the wounds.
“I don't think they're very deep,” said she. “What a strange experience.”
“They're nothing,” said he.
“Perhaps I'd better not do anything until the doctor comes.”
“Of course not,” said he.
She was bending close over him. A loose strand of her fine hair brushed his cheek. A new fever was at work within him. He kissed her hair. She heard the sound but said nothing; she was washing away the blood with the antiseptic solution Minna had got. He caught one glimpse of her eyes; they were wet with tears.