They had almost finished their meal when the sounds lessened, dwindling
to spasmodic, staggering gasps with lengthening pauses that broke
suddenly in a quivering intake of breath and a vibration of the
recumbent frame. The hysterical paroxysm was over. He lay limp and
turned his head on his arms, too exhausted to feel shame for the shine
of tears on his cheek. Susan took a plate of food and a coffee cup and
stole toward him, the two men watching her under their eyelids. She
knelt beside him and spoke very gently, "Will you take this, David?
You'll feel stronger after you've eaten."
"Put it down," he said hoarsely, without moving.
"Shall I give you the coffee?" She hung over him looking into his
face. "I can hold the cup and you can drink it."
"By and by," he muttered.
She bent lower and laid her hand on his hair.
"David, I'm so sorry," she breathed.
Courant leaped to his feet and walked to where his horses stood. He
struck one of them a blow on the flank that after the silence and the
low tones of the girl's crooning voice sounded as violent as a pistol
shot. They all started, even David lifted his head.
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