I'll get it. Wait, Jastrow;
it's all right, you're all right. I'll get it. See, Teenie's going.
Wait--wait--Teenie's going--"
She edged out and she edged in, hysteria audible in her breathing.
"Jas honey, won't you please--"
"Gimme, was what I said--gimme and quick!"
Her arm under his head, the glass tilted high against his teeth, he
drank deeply, gratefully, breathing out finally and lying back against
his pillow, his right hand uncurling of its clutch.
She lifted the short-snouted, wide-barreled, and steely object off the
bed-edge gingerly, tremblingly.
"More like it," he said, running his tongue around his mouth; "more like
it."
"Jas--Jas, what have you done?"
"Great stuff! Great stuff!" He kept repeating.
"If--if you wasn't so sick, honey--I don't know what I'd do after such a
terrible thing like this--you acting like this--so terrible--God! I--I'm
all trembling."
"Great stuff!" he said, and reaching out and eyes still closed, patting
her. "Great stuff, nice old Big Tent!"
"Try to sleep now, Jas. You musta had a spell of craziness! This is
awful! Try to sleep. If only you don't get a spell--Sleep--please!"
"You wait! Guy with the collar on wrong side round--he's the one; he's
the one!"
"Yes--yes, honey.
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