“Don’t fuss. I’ve had a rough passage, but I’m all right now.”
Kitty waited for a moment, but he was silent. His immobility rent her heart with anguish; it was terrifying that he should lie so still. He seemed prepared already for the stillness of the grave. Some one, the surgeon or a dresser, came forward and with a gesture motioned her aside; he leaned over the dying man and with a dirty rag wet his lips. Kitty stood up once more and turned to Waddington despairingly.
“Is there no hope at all?” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“How much longer can he live?”
“No one can tell. An hour perhaps.”
Kitty looked round the bare chamber and her eyes rested for an instant on the substantial form of Colonel Yü.
“Can I be left alone with him for a little while?” she asked. “Only for a minute.”
“Certainly, if you wish it.”
Waddington stepped over to the Colonel and spoke to him. The Colonel gave a little bow and then in a low tone an order.
“We shall wait on the steps,” said Waddington as they trooped out. “You have only to call.”
Now that the incredible had overwhelmed her consciousness, like a drug coursing through her veins, and she realised that Walter was going to die she had but one thought, and that was to make his end easier for him by dragging from his soul the rancour which poisoned it. If he could die at peace
