John gripped her wrists so that he hurt her and dragged down her hands.
He looked into her eyes, still laughing.

"I thought you weren't afraid of anything," he said.

"I'm not afraid when we're out there. I'm only afraid of _seeing_ them.
You know I am."

She turned, but he had put himself between her and the door. She wrenched
at the latch, sobbing.

"How could you be so _cruel?_ What did you do it for? What did you
_do_ it for?"

"I wanted you to see what they've done with him. There's his clean bed.
They haven't even taken his boots off."

"You brute. You _utter_ brute!"

A steely sound like a dropped hammer came from behind the glass
partition; then the sliding of a latch. John opened the door a little way
and she slipped out past him.

"_Next time_," he said, "perhaps you'll do as you're told."

She wanted to get away by herself. Not into her own room, where Gwinnie,
who had been unloading ambulance trains half the night, now rested. The
McClane Corps was crowding into the messroom for tea. She passed through
without looking at any of them and out to the balcony, closing the French