“He's knit to you. He might die if you go,” she said.
Something about her choked him. He had been with men so continually.
“And then I can't stay,” she whispered. “But I am so thankful to have found you—that nothing else matters.... You see, we are prisoners. They have trusted certain of us to work; still we have no names, no way of hearing, no mails, or anything. It's a good miracle that I found you.”
Presently she said again: “You don't think I understand, but I do. You have stood by him. He would not have been here but for you. He is living because of you. I see that. I see that he has been very close.... You may hate me as you wish, but you cannot help taking what I give you.”
“You're an all-right young woman,” Big Belt managed to remark. “I knew something of that.” Then, in a panic, he added: “He'll know you to-night. He's cool now. He'll pull through. He'll know you to-night, and then I go.”
“Not until he sees you.... Besides, I am a prisoner. I cannot come and go as I would. I may not be able to come to-night—they may say no.” “He'll have all that he needs until you come,” Boylan said.
She did come that night. Peter had returned, but voyaged again meanwhile. In the morning she came again.... Boylan ordered her to sit down in the far corner. He went to the bed, for Peter was stirring, and presently opened his eyes with reason and organization in them.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello, boy.”
Peter looked beyond him and around the room.