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Updated: June 19, 2025
It was horrible to hate a woman who at any minute might be killed. They said McClane didn't look after his women. He didn't care how they exposed themselves to the firing; he took them into unnecessary danger. He didn't care.
That's one thing I like about McClane. He can't stand that sort of thing any more than I can." "How about Gwinnie and me?" "Gwinnie hangs her beastly legs about all over the place. So do you." John standing at the foot of the stairs, looking at the Antwerp men.
His eyes had a dazed, stupid look as if he were not perfectly awake. But at the sound of the rasping voice his mouth had tightened; it was pinched and sharp with pain. He didn't look at Mrs. Rankin. He came to her, Charlotte Redhead, straight; straight as if she had drawn him from his sleep. The McClane people got up, one after another, and went out.
At the same time it struck her that he wanted you to see that he exposed himself to all the risks of death, to see how he faced it. She had no patience with that talk about death; that pitiful bolstering up of his romance. "If McClane says much more you can tell him." He was counting on this transfer of the ambulances to get credit with McClane; to silence him.
"And Dr. Sutton?" "He can please himself." "If Miss Redhead stays I shall stay." "John will let you off like a shot, if you don't want to." She turned to go and McClane called after her, "My offer remains open to you three." Through the glass door she heard Sutton saying, "If you're right, McClane, I can't very well leave her with him, can I?" Sutton was stupid. He didn't understand.
They sat brooding over the map of Belgium, marking down the names of the places, Alost, Termonde and Quatrecht, that McClane had gone to, that he would talk about on his return, when an awful interest would impel them to listen. He and Mrs.
"I don't quite know " McClane measured his words out one by one, "what he was doing. Sutton was with him. He knows." "Where is Billy?" "Over there. Do you want him?" "Not yet." A soldier brought a chair for her. She sat down with her back to the trestle table. At the lighted end of the room she saw Sutton stooping over a young Belgian captain, buttoning his tunic under the sling he had adjusted.
But in the end one of the stretcher bearers had given in, and John had to take his turn. He had been keen to go. Keen. She could see him swinging along up the road to the battlefield and McClane with him, running to keep up with his tall stride. She had taken her turn too and she knew what it was like up there.
All her life the men she knew had obeyed her, all except McClane. She didn't know John. He raised his head and looked at her with cool, concentrated dislike. "I'd rather stay where I am if you don't mind. I want to talk to Miss Redhead." "Oh " Mrs. Rankin's flush went out like a blown flame. Her lips made one pale, tight thread above the set square of her chin. All her light was in her eyes.
He must really have thought that she had gone with him. But he must have known, too, that she wouldn't go. He must have known that if he told her to wait for him she would wait. So that The voices of the McClane women ceased abruptly. One of them turned round. Charlotte saw John standing between the glasses of the two doors. He came in and she heard Mrs.
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