Then he removed his scarf and bathed her face and hands.
"I must see your wounds now," he said, gently.
She made no reply, but watched him steadily as he opened her blouse and untied the bandage.

His strong fingers trembled a little as he removed it.

If the wounds had reopened! A chill struck him as he saw the angry red bullet-mark, and a tiny stream of blood winding from it down her white breast.

Very carefully he lifted her to see that the wound in her back had closed perfectly.

Then he washed the blood from her breast, bathed the wound, and left it unbandaged, open to the air.
Her eyes thanked him.
"Listen," he said, earnestly.