Is that bad?"
I sat down on the bed beside her.
"Not at all.
You will sleep well."
"But you don't want to sleep yet?"
"I'll take a turn first along the beach."
She nodded and lay back again.
I continued to sit awhile.
"Leave the door open overnight," said she, drunk with sleep. "Then it will be like sleeping in the garden."
Her breathing became deeper and I got up softly and went out into the garden. I stood by the wooden fence and smoked a cigarette.
From here I could see into the room.
Pat's bathing gown was hanging over a chair, her dress and some underclothes were flung across it, and on the floor in front of the chair, stood her shoes.
One was tipped over.
I had an extraordinary sense of home as I saw that, and thought that now at last someone was there and would be there, that I only had to take a few steps to see her and be with her, to-day, to-morrow, and for a long time to come, perhaps—
Perhaps, thought I, perhaps—always that word, one never could escape it.
It was certainty we lacked, certainty that everyone and everything lacked.
I went down to the beach, to the sea and the wind, to the hollow booming that echoed like a distant bombardment.
Chapter XVI
I was sitting on the beach, watching the sun go down.
Pat had not come.
She had not been well all day.
It grew darker and I rose to go home.
As I did I saw through the trees the maid coming towards me.
She was signalling and shouting something.
I did not understand; the wind and the sea were too loud.
I waved back that she should stay where she was; I would be there in a minute.
But she continued to run, her hands to her mouth.
"Wife . . ." I heard. "Quick . . ."
I ran. "What's the matter?"
She was panting for breath.
"Quick . . . wife . . . accident . . ."
I tore along the sandy track through the wood to the house.
The wooden gate into the garden was jammed; I sprang over it and burst into the room.
There lay Pat, blood all over her chest, fists clenched, blood running from her mouth.
Beside her stood Fraulein Muller with cloths and a basin of water.
"What is it?" I cried, pushing her aside.
She said something.
"Bring some bandages!" I cried. "Where's the wound?"
She looked at me with trembling lips.
"There is no wound . . ."
I straightened.
"A haemorrhage," said she.
I felt as if I had been struck with a hammer.
"A haemorrhage!"
I got up and took the basin of water from her hand.
"Bring some ice, quickly, some ice."
I dipped the towel in the basin, and laid it on Pat's chest.
"We haven't any ice in the house," said Fraulein Muller.
I swung round.
She stepped back.