Burke bent over him. "Get up!" he said again. "I'll help you."
He took him under the arms and hoisted him slowly up. Guy
blundered to his feet with shuddering effort.
"Now--fire me out!" he said.
But Burke only guided him to the bed. "Sit down!" he said.
Numbly he obeyed. He seemed incapable of doing otherwise. But
when, still with that unwavering steadiness of purpose, Burke
stooped and began to unfasten the straps of his gaiters, he
suddenly cried out as if he had been struck unawares in a vital
place.
"No--no--no! I'm damned--I'm damned if you shall! Burke--stop, do
you hear? Burke!"
"Be quiet!" Burke said.
But Guy flung himself forward, preventing him. They looked into
one another's eyes for a tense interval, then, as the blood began
to trickle down his chin again, Burke released himself.
In the same moment, Guy covered his face and burst into agonized
sobbing most terrible to hear.
Burke stood up again. Somehow all the hardness had gone out of him
though the resolution remained. He put a hand on Guy's shoulder,
and gently shook him.
"Don't do it, boy! Don't do it! Pull yourself together for
heaven's sake! Drink--do anything--but this! You'll want to shoot
yourself afterwards."
But Guy was utterly broken, his self-control beyond recovery. The
only response he made was to feel for and blindly grip the hand
that held him.
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