For Shalah and myself there might be torture, and at the best an arrow in our hearts, but for her there would be things unspeakable.

I remembered the little meadow on the Rapidan, and the tale told by the grey ashes.
There was only one shot in my pistol, but I determined that it should be saved for her.

In such a crisis the memory works wildly, and I remember feeling glad that I had stood up before Grey's fire.

The thought gave me a comforting assurance of manhood.
Those were nightmare minutes.

The girl was very quiet, in a stupor of fatigue and fear.