"And now?" wondered Brian when the face came again.
At the sound of her voice there came within him an extraordinary fusing, at once a pain and a delight . . . fragments of memory . . . a moonbeam . . . tears . . . the crackle of a fire . . . a quarry mist . . . the glory of stars . . . a meaning . . . a motive that startled and defied him.
"There should be moonlight on your hair," said Brian, drifting slowly back to a knowledge of reality and pain.
"Yes. At least until Doctor Cole finds someone else, I am at times your nurse. The pain, Brian?" She bent over him, straightening a pillow, touching his forehead with cool, questioning fingers.
"There was a purple cloud," he said, frowning.
"The drug. Doctor Barrington wanted you to sleep."
"And the geranium?" His eyes sought it with relief.
"Kenny found it. Grogan's wife had it in her window. I think he must have bullied her a little--"
"Thank God!" He closed his eyes, his color ebbing. "This plaster cast," he apologized, "is like a suit of armor. It bothers me."
"Sometimes Don; sometimes I--unless the doctor sends me here. Once--Kenny."
Brian's skull was young and elastic. It saved him much, but Barrington lingered until the period of suspense was at an end. Kenny drove him to the Finlake station.
"And Garry's wired me to keep it. He's going to the coast."
"Piffle!" countered Frank. "Kenny, old dear, I think you hit a chicken. If at any time," he added at the station, "you feel the need of me, I want you to wire. He's bound to be nervous. And if his convalescence seems slow and irksome, remember that the reaction of a shock like that isn't merely physical."
Kenny wrung his hand in silence. He motored home, oppressed by the bare line of hills and the noise of the quarry.
As usual the sight of Joan dispelled his gloom. Brian's pain was less. He had fallen asleep of his own accord.
Kenny darted away with an air of expectancy to the other shack, whence, after an excited period of foraging, he emerged, carrying a bundle. Frank, knowing him well enough to read his shining enthusiasm aright, would have turned him back at Brian's door without a qualm. But Frank was not at hand.
"You look like a kid sneaking home with a stray cat!" Brian told him with a grin.