She closed the door
and went slowly back into the room, mastering her horror, fighting
it at every step. She readied the struggling, convulsed figure,
laid her hands upon it,--and her repulsion was gone.
"Sit down!" she said. "Sit down and let me help you!"
Blindly he surrendered to her guiding. She led him to the bed, and
he sank upon it. She opened his shirt at the throat. She brought
him water.
He could not drink at first, but after repeated effort he succeeded
in swallowing a little. Then at length in a hoarse whisper,
scarcely intelligible, he asked for the remedy which he always
carried.
She felt in his pockets and found it, all ready for use. The
lightning had begun to die down, and the light within the room was
dim. She turned the lamp higher, moving it so that its ray fell
upon Guy. And in that moment she saw Death in his face. . . .
She felt as if a quiet and very steady Hand had been laid upon her,
checking all agitation. Calmly she bent over the bared arm he
thrust forth to her. Unflinchingly she ran the needle into the
white flesh, noting with a detached sort of pity his emaciation.
He put his other arm about her like a frightened, dinging child.
"Stay with me! Don't leave me!" he muttered.
"All right," she made gentle answer. "Don't be afraid!"
He leaned against her, shuddering violently, his dark head bowed,
his spasmodic breathing painful to hear.
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