I did not want to wake up from that dream.

"Have I been very--very sad ?" she went on.
"Sad and strange, Sally.

That was worse than my bullet-holes." She gripped my hand.

I felt her hair on my brow, felt her breath on my cheek.
"Russ, I swore--I'd hate you if you--if you--" "I know.

Don't speak of it," I interposed hurriedly.
"But I don't hate you.