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but in a man's strength or
weaknessand he knew by the things that happened to him that he was
weakening. A private operation had gone badly. He had bungled with his
dressingsso that the surgeon had turned on him in a burst of irritation.
Better go home and sleep it offStonehouse.
He had not gone. He would not admit that he was ill--dared not. All illness
now meant the end of everything. It would wipe out all that they had
endured if he were to break down now. It would kill Christine. She must
not even guess.
He hung about the hospital common-room. The summer heat surging up
from the burning pavements stagnated between the faded walls. He could
not touch the food that he had brought with him. He was faint and sickand
the long table at which he satwith its white blur of newspapersrose and
fell as though it were floating on an oily sea. But he held out. At five
o'clock he was to meet Francey at the gatesandas though she had some
magic gift of reliefhe strained towards that timehis head between his
PART II164
handshis ears counting the seconds that dripped heavilydrowsily from the
moon-faced clock.
And then she did not come. Outwardly it was only one more triflecapable
of simple explanations. But he saw it through a [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]yilai:
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