She thought that there must be some drug they could give him which would stay the dreadful ebbing of his life. Now that her eyes were more accustomed to the dimness she saw with horror that his face had fallen. She would hardly have recognised him. It was unthinkable that in a few short hours he should look like another man; he hardly looked like a man at all; he looked like death.
She thought that he was making an effort to speak. She put her ear close.
"Don't fuss. I've had a rough passage, but I'm all right now."
Kitty waited for a moment, but he was silent. His immobility rent her heart with anguish; it was terrifying that he should lie so still. He seemed prepared already for the stillness of the grave. Some one, the surgeon or a dresser, came forward and with a gesture motioned her aside; he leaned over the dying man and with a dirty rag wet his lips. Kitty stood up once more and turned to Waddington despairingly.
"Is there no hope at all?" she whispered.
He shook his head.
"How much longer can he live?"
"No one can tell. An hour perhaps."
Kitty looked round the bare chamber and her eyes rested for an instant on the substantial form of Colonel Yü.
"Can I be left alone with him for a little while?" she asked. "Only for a minute."