"Buck up. Just one tiny brain-wave."
At the end of her tether, she cried: "The only way out! I give it up!" and swept the pieces over the board.
She rose, stood transfixed with horror and sense of outrage. Harry Shileto, propped on pillows, was unwinding the bandages from his mangled head. Devils within her clamored for hysterical outcry. But something physical happened and checked the breath that was about to utter his Christian name. The boy had gripped her arm with all his young strength in passionate remonstrance.
"Oh, dear old thing—do play the game!"
"I'm sorry," she said, and he released her.
So she passed swiftly round the boy's bed to that of the foolish patient and arrested his hand.
"Major Shileto, what on earth are you doing?"
The girl, who was very pretty, turned on her an alarmed and tearful face.
"It was my fault, Sister. Oh, can I believe him?"
"You can believe me, at any rate," she replied with asperity, swiftly readjusting the bandage. "Major Shileto's sight is unaffected. But if I had not been here and he had succeeded in taking off his dressings, God knows what would have happened. Major Shileto, I put you on your honor not to do such a silly thing again."