"Sh-h-h," she breathed. He shut his eyes.
"Hard to think of anything any more. I can't keep clear." He shuddered with
pain. "Fix me for _them_," he muttered to Baird. "George and his mother.
Fix me up--give me a couple of minutes clear. And Deborah--when you bring
'em in--don't let 'em know. You understand? No infernal last good-byes!"
Deborah sharply set her teeth.
"No, dear, no," she whispered. She followed her father out of the room,
leaving Allan bending over the bed with a hypodermic in his hand. And when,
a few moments later, George came in with his mother, they found Bruce
soothed and quieted. He even smiled as he reached up his hand.
"They say I've got to sleep, old girl--just sleep and sleep--it'll do me
good. So you mustn't stay in the room to-night. Stay with the kiddies and
get 'em to sleep." He was still smiling up at her. "They say it'll be a
long time, little wife--and I'm so sorry--I was to blame. If I'd done as
you wanted and gone in their taxi. Remember? You said it might rain." He
turned to George: "Look here, my boy, I'm counting on you. I'll be sick,
you know--no good at all. You must stand by your mother."
George gulped awkwardly:
"Sure I will, dad." His father sharply pressed his hand:
"That's right, old fellow, I know what you are. Now good-night, son.
Good-night, Edith dear." He looked at her steadily just for a moment, then
closed his eyes. "Oh, but I'm sleepy," he murmured.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190