Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. "You've hit it," answered Sheppard.
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