Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. "I have hurt you because I would not trust you. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking.
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