Croin turns a face half hidden by bandages to me, and puts a leg damp
with sweat out from under the blankets, for fever runs high just at this
time. He too, is silent; he knows as well as I do that he is not going
on well; but all the same, he hopes I shall go away without speaking to
him.
No. I must tell him. I bend over him and murmur certain things.
He listens, and his chin begins to tremble, his boyish chin, which is
covered with a soft, fair down.
Then, with the accent of his province, he says in a tearful, hesitating
voice:
"I have already given an eye, must I give a hand too?"
His one remaining eye fills with tears. And seeing the sound hand, I
press it gently before I go.