'No.'
'You look awfully pale.'
He let his head drop against one shoulder. 'I m all right.'
Her voice was alarmed. 'Bill!' She came to the table. 'What s the matter?'
'Nothing.'
'You re not hurt?'
'Not very much.'
She clutched his arm. 'Where?'
He uttered a cry of pain. 'Don t touch me.' He sat upright with a tremendous effort. 'Please go away.' He pressed both hands against his chest. 'Please.'
'Bill!' She pulled his hands away, opened his coat. 'You ve been shot! There s blood all over your shirt!'
'I m all right.'
'But, Bill, why didn t you have the doctors… ' Her green eyes widened. 'Is it as bad as that?' He nodded slowly.
'Oh, darling, don t die! I couldn t bear to have you die.' She looked at him. 'Isn t there anything…?'
'You can… thank me… for saving you.'
'Of course I thank you, Bill.' Her hands opened the bloody shirt. 'I was only angry because you let Peter…' She searched in vain for the wound. She let go of the shirt, looked up at his face.
'You louse!' she said. 'Fooling me like that! I ll never speak to you again as long as I live.'
'Darling,' he said, grinning, 'then you ll make me an ideal wife.'
