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Updated: June 25, 2025
Above his head the battleship sailed on its green field. He began to come back, slowly, as if he were looking for something dropped on his path; then suddenly he stopped, turned again and was gone. There was no wire from Gwinnie. She had waited a week now. She wondered how long it would be before Gwinnie's mother's lumbago gave in and let her go.
"If I were you I wouldn't think about him, Sharlie" She knew what Gwinnie meant. But thinking was one thing and caring was another. Thinking was the antidote to caring. If she had let her mind play freely over Gibson Herbert in the beginning But Gibson stopped her thinking, and John Conway made her think. That was the difference. There was nothing about John that was like Gibson.
Gwinnie was to drive Sutton and Charlotte was to go out alone. And he had offered himself to McClane. To McClane. That gave her the measure of his resentment. She could see that he coupled her with Sutton while he yet tried to keep them apart. He was not going to have more to do with either of them than he could help. So that she had hardly seen or heard of him that day.
"I , sa-ay " Gwinnie's voice drawled in slow meditative surprise. The brooding curiosity had gone out of her face. Gwinnie's face, soft and schoolgirlish between the fawn gold bands and plaited ear bosses of her hair, the pink, pushed out mouth, the little routing nose, the thick grey eyes, suddenly turned on you, staring. Gwinnie had climbed up on to the bed to hear about it.
They slouched, with their arms slung affectionately round each other's waists, into their own room. Behind the shut door Gwinnie began. "The Colonel's most frightfully pleased about Berlaere." "Does he think they'll hold it?" "It isn't that. He's pleased about you." "Me?" "You and John. What you did there. And your bringing back the guns." "Who told you that?" "Mac.
It had been an obsession with him, to get into it, to get into it at once, without waiting. That was why there was only four of them. He wouldn't wait for more volunteers. They could get all the volunteers they wanted afterwards; and all the cars, his father would send out any number. She suspected John of not really wanting the volunteers, of not even wanting Gwinnie and Dr. Sutton.
"Well You wait." They waited. Even the McClane Corps had to wait. "I don't care," said Charlotte, "how beastly they are to me, provided they leave John alone." "What can they do?" he said. "They don't matter." "There's such a lot of them," said Gwinnie. "It's when they're all together they're so poisonous." "It's when they're separate," Charlotte said. "I think Mrs. Rankin does things.
Yesterday in the hayfield, John pitching hay on to the cart, and she standing on the top of the load, flattening down the piles as he swung them up. Gwinnie came with a big fork, swanking, for fun, trying to pitch a whole haycock.
The three were drawn up at the street side, close under the house walls, McClane's first. Then Sutton's, with Gwinnie. Then hers; behind it the short straight road where the firing would come down. John stood in the roadway waiting for the others. He had his hand beside her hand, grasping the arm of the driver's seat. "I wish you could take me with you," she said. "Can't.
I don't want you to be killed. Somehow that's still the one thing I couldn't bear. But if you'd sent Gwinnie I'd have killed you." "I didn't send Gwinnie. I gave you your chance. I knew you wanted to cut Mrs. Rankin out." "I? I never thought of such a rotten thing." "Well, you talked about danger as if you liked it." "So did you." "Oh go to hell." "I've just come from there."
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