“No!” Adam spoke so explosively that the two looked at him. “Let her alone. Let her rest.”

“Who’s going to take care of her?”

“I am,” said Adam.

“Now, you look here—” Charles began.

“Keep out of it!”

“It’s my place as much as yours.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I’ll go if she has to go.”

The doctor said, “Steady down. What makes you so interested?”

“I wouldn’t put a hurt dog out.”

“You wouldn’t get mad about it either. Are you holding something back? Did you go out last night? Did you do it?”

“He was here all night,” said Charles. “He snores like a goddam train.”

Adam said, “Why can’t you let her be? Let her get well.”

The doctor stood up and dusted his hands. “Adam,” he said, “your father was one of my oldest friends. I know you and your family. You aren’t stupid. I don’t know why you don’t recognize ordinary facts, but you don’t seem to. Have to talk to you like a baby. That girl was assaulted. I believe whoever did it tried to kill her. If I don’t tell the sheriff about it, I’m breaking the law. I admit I break a few, but not that one.”

“Well, tell him. But don’t let him bother her until she’s better.”

“It’s not my habit to let my patients be bothered,” the doctor said. “You still want to keep her here?”

“Yes.”

“Your funeral. I’ll look in tomorrow. She’ll sleep. Give her water and warm soup through the tube if she wants it.” He stalked out.

Charles turned on his brother. “Adam, for God’s sake, what is this?”

“Let me alone.”

“What’s got into you?”

“Let me alone—you hear? Just let me alone.”

“Christ!” said Charles and spat on the floor and went restlessly and uneasily to work.

Adam was glad he was gone. He moved about the kitchen, washed the breakfast dishes, and swept the floor. When he had put the kitchen to rights he went in and drew a chair up to the bed. The girl snored thickly through the morpnine. The swelling was going down on her face, but the eyes were blackened and swollen. Adam sat very still, looking at her. Her set and splintered arm lay on her stomach, but her right arm lay on top of the coverlet, the fingers curled like a nest. It was a child’s hand, almost ä baby’s hand. Adam touched her wrist with his finger, and her fingers moved a little in reflex. Her wrist was warm. Secretly then, as though he were afraid he might be caught, he straightened her hand and touched the little cushion pads on the fingertips. Her fingers were pink and soft, but the skin on the back of her hand seemed to have an underbloom like a pearl. Adam chuckled with delight. Her breathing stopped and he became electrically alert—then her throat clicked and the rhythmed snoring continued. Gently he worked her hand and arm under the cover before he tiptoed out of the room.