drowned myself; I swear I should." 

"And a lot of good that would have done," Feathers said dryly. "For heaven's sake, chuck it, young 'un, and talk about something we can all enjoy." 

But Atkins apparently could talk of nothing else, and he kept harping on the same subject until in desperation Feathers took him by the shoulders and put him outside. 

Even then there was no peace, for almost directly Chris himself arrived. 

"They tell me you saved her life," he said agitatedly. "I ought to have guessed! It's the kind of thing you would do. I can't—can't tell you how grateful I am. If anything had happened to her . . ." 

Feathers chucked the book he was reading across the room with violence. 

"Well, nothing has happened to her," he said crossly. "So, for the love of Mike, shut up!" He walked over to the window. "I suppose she is all right?" he asked casually. 

"She's weak, of course, but the doctor says she'll be quite herself in a day or two." Chris hesitated. "She'd like to see you, Feathers." 

Feathers ran a distracted hand across his hair. 

45 "More heroics!" he said savagely. "Well, I refuse! I absolutely refuse! I hate this tommyrot, I tell you!" 

45

Chris looked offended. "I think she'll be hurt if you don't go." he said diffidently. 

There was a little silence. 

"Oh, all right!" Feathers turned resignedly to the door. "Do I go now, and do you come with me?" 

"Yes." 

They went out of the room together and along the corridor. 

Marie was lying on a sofa by the window, wrapped in a blue woolly gown. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow behind her, and she looked very frail and wan. 

She held out her hand to Feathers, smiling faintly. 

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