He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. ” She said wistfully. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. " "I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. " "As you please," replied Jonathan, sternly.
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