"Hush, Vaughn. You're growing excited. It will not do. Please—please—"
"Diane, your father's—chief of this—gang that I came to break up."
"My God, hear him! How dare you—Oh, Vaughn, poor, poor boy, you're out of your mind! Sally, Russ, what shall we do? He's worse. He's saying the most dreadful things! I—I can't bear to hear him!"
Steele heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. I walked away with Sally, led her to and fro in a shady aisle beyond the rocks, and tried to comfort her as best I could. After a while, when we returned to the glade, Miss Sampson had considerable color in her cheeks, and Steele was leaning against the rock, grave and sad. I saw that he had recovered and he had reached the critical point. "Hello, Russ," he said. "Sprung a surprise on me, didn't you? Miss Sampson says I've been a little flighty while she bandaged me up. I hope I wasn't bad. I certainly feel better now. I seem to—to have dreamed."
Miss Sampson flushed at his concluding words. Then silence ensued. I could not think of anything to say and Sally was dumb. "You all seem very strange," said Miss Sampson.
When Steele's face turned gray to his lips I knew the moment had come. "No doubt. We all feel so deeply for you," he said.
"Me? Why?"
"Because the truth must no longer be concealed."
It was her turn to blanch, and her eyes, strained, dark as night, flashed from one of us to the other.
"The truth! Tell it then." She had more courage than any of us.