He recognized me at once, and he behaved like a madman. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.
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