"Oh, Bibi, have you never thought of it? In a city there'd be some chance
of something I could do!"

"You? Oh, Guy!" After she had accepted the care of him, and that so
pleasantly, he wasn't satisfied! "Is there anything you lack here?" She was
hurt.

It was replaying the old parts reversed. Once _he_ had grieved that he
could not give her enough to content her.

"A--h--" He turned his head away and flung an arm up over his eyes.

She understood only that he was suffering. "But, Guy, there's nothing you
could do, possibly. It's not to be expected. Have I complained?" She fell
back on the kindly imbecility of the nurse. "Now you're not to worry about
that, at least until you're better--"

"Better?" He forgot the lines in which he had schooled himself. The man
overrode the amateur actor. "That's not the thing to hope for. Why couldn't
it have killed me--that first fall?" ("My dear, my dear!" she stammered.)
"There would have been some satisfaction in getting out of the way, and
that in decent fashion; like a charge of powder, not like a rubbish-heap. I
can't accept it of you, Bibi. I'm enraged for you. I can't be grateful. I'm
ashamed."

She understood now.

What could she say? A dozen things, and she did; things about as satisfying
as theology at the grave. He did not answer nor respond. When he relaxed at